“I’d be interested in seeing what you have, perhaps taking a few off your hands.” She paused a moment before adding, “I’ll pay you top dollar.”
The man appeared to only be vaguely interested, but she knew that had to be an act. Men like him were only in it for the money and they wanted as much as they could get their hands on as fast as they could get it.
“I’d like to see the color of your money,” he told her.
She had a counterrequest. “I’d like to see the nature of your girls.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “Not so fast. I don’t even know who you are.”
“And you won’t,” she told him matter-of-factly. “I don’t broadcast my organization. Staying under the radar is how I survive. Word of mouth in a very small, elite, tight circle does all the advertising for me that I need. Once I’m confident that you can deliver—and that you’re not just out to steal my money—I’ll give you references and you can have me checked out to your heart’s content.”
“That sounds fair,” he allowed, then added, “But I’ll have to think about it. It doesn’t pay to be trusting. You understand that?”
“Oh, perfectly.” Because I trust you as far as I can throw you, she told the unsavory man silently. Still, what she thought of him didn’t really matter. He had her sister, of that she was fairly certain. That gave him all the cards to hold. She just had her bluff, nothing more.
“I have photographs I can show you,” Roland was telling her. “You can make your choices from them.”
“Photographs can be easily doctored,” she told him with just a hint of contempt in her voice. “When can I see the girls in person so I can make my choices?” she countered.
“My, my, such eagerness,” Roland said with a laugh that had no humor in it whatsoever. “All in due time, my dear, all in due time.”
Okay, if he wanted to play word games, she’d play along. Anything to gain his confidence—as far as it went. “I heard that time was scarce and that you and your ‘people’ would be leaving the country very soon.”
He sneered at her gullibility—or at least that was his inference. “Don’t believe everything you hear.”
“Then you’re not leaving soon?” she asked, watching his eyes for some sort of a sign that would give him away one way or another. When he didn’t answer, she looked to the man who had brought her here for a confirmation or denial.
“Don’t look at him,” Roland warned sharply. “He doesn’t have an answer to that any more than you do. You see, I do believe in equality. You will both be kept in the dark until such time as I feel you need to be enlightened. Not a moment sooner,” he told her.
“All right, then, for the time being, I’ll look at those photographs you have.” The moment the words were out of her mouth, she knew it wasn’t even going to be that easy—seeing a photograph of Janie wouldn’t confirm that she was still alive. But she had to try even though she knew she was playing right into his hands. Maybe she could use that, she told herself. Use that to win the miserable human being over.
It was a long shot, but right now she didn’t have anything else.
“Tomorrow,” he said. “Come back tomorrow and perhaps I’ll let you look at them then.”
She played along and looked confused even though in her heart, she knew that the man was enjoying asserting his power.
“You just offered to show those photographs to me now,” she protested, delivering just a part of the frustration she was beginning to feel building up inside her.
“I changed my mind. Women aren’t the only ones with that prerogative, you know.” The smile on his face indicated just how pleased he was with himself. “Give one of my men a cell number where you can be reached and I’ll call if and when I want to see you again. You can go,” he commanded like the tyrant he aspired to be within this growing organization, dismissing her with a wave of his hand.
Inwardly, Tiana was seething, but she couldn’t afford to indulge herself and show it. Somehow, exercising supreme control, she managed to keep her feelings under wraps.
“Tomorrow, then,” Tiana said to him as civilly as she could.
“Tomorrow,” Roland said with a smirk. “Or the next day.”
She turned on her heel and began to walk away. It was either that or lose all control and strangle the pompous ass.
When Brennan fell into place beside her, she looked at him almost accusingly. “I can find my way out of here without your help.”
“I’m your ride, remember?” he reminded her cheerfully.
Roland, apparently, hadn’t heard him say it. “Where are you going?” he demanded, eying Brennan, as if outraged that he’d leave without being dismissed.
“I’m taking her back to her car,” Brennan answered. “I drove her here, thinking it was better if she didn’t have a way to leave from the hotel unless you wanted her to leave.”
Roland appeared rather impatient for a second, then shrugged.
“Not half-bad thinking. All right, be quick about it—and then come back. I want details from you about that motel room and then I might have another assignment for you. See if you’re worth my time,” he said loftily. “So whatever you’re going to do,” he ordered, and it was clear he wasn’t referring to just a simple drop-off and delivery, “make sure you do it fast.”
“I’ll see what I can do to move things along,” Brennan replied respectfully, playing up to the man because there were a great many lives at stake if he played the game correctly and well.
He was well aware that the woman beside him—who in his opinion remained an enigma—clearly had contempt in her eyes when she looked at him.
Chapter 5
Tiana waited until they were not just clear of the suite, but of the actual floor as well before she spoke again.
“Exactly what are you to him?” she asked as the elevator brought them back down to the hotel’s ground floor.
He laughed shortly. In the two weeks since he’d wormed his way into Roland’s inner circle, he’d been carefully walking on egg shells, every fiber of his being alert and watching for any telltale signs that he was in imminent danger. This while keeping his eyes and ears open, absorbing any information that might be available. He had yet to learn where the girls were being kept, but he was working on it.
So far, for some unknown reason, the man who made his mark in sex trafficking minors had taken a liking to him. But he knew that could easily change in a heartbeat—which was just the amount of time it took for his status to go from living to dead.
“Probably annoying,” he guessed. There was no advantage to telling this woman that he and Roland got along. He never bragged about or called undue attention to a situation.
At the very least, that in itself might be inviting trouble.
“Very funny,” she commented. “I mean in the scheme of things.”
He shrugged. “I came here to fill an order, same as you.”
The elevator stopped on the first floor and they got out, making their way out of the hotel to the self-parking lot across the street.
“If that’s true, why does he treat you like an underling?” she asked.
He took that to mean she was asking why there appeared to be a certain lack of respect when Roland spoke to him. He saw no point in telling her that Roland had liked his style and said he could use someone of intelligence in his organization—after a trial internship—God, did that sound ludicrous or what?
“The man didn’t exactly use kid gloves dealing with you, either,” he pointed out. “And he has no reason to. He’s in the catbird seat.”
After buckling up once she was inside his sedan, she waited until he got in on his side and then asked, “Was I sensing some definite tension between you and the Hulk twins, or was that just my overactive imagination?”
Cutting around the vehicle in front of him, Brennan peeled out of the lot and hit the main road. “More like your astute ability to pick up on unique vibes,” he told her. There was no harm in tossing her a small bone, and it might appease her enough to get her to stop asking questions. “My first encounter with the ugly twins, they wanted to keep me out of Roland’s inner sanctum. I had different ideas.” He flashed her a quick smile as they came to a stop at a red light. “My side won.”
“Your side,” she repeated. Did this man have a partner she hadn’t met yet, someone she should be on her guard against? She had no way of finding out except to ask. “Who else is on your side?”
“As far as I know, I’m the only one on my side. If you’d like to join up,” he told her, “there just happens to be a fresh opening.”
He was leading her around in circles, trying to confuse her, she thought. “But Roland just said he had an assignment for you after you drop me off. Isn’t that something a boss says to his henchman?” she asked pointedly.
“It is,” he agreed. “Roland fancies himself everyone’s boss. And he also wants to make sure that whoever he’s dealing with has something to lose if his ring is ever exposed or brought down.”
She could see that happening. “If you’re afraid of going to jail along with him, then maybe you’ll be careful not to run your mouth off or talk to the wrong people,” she filled in.
He nodded. “Give the lady a prize. You catch on fast,” he told her.
“Not exactly rocket science,” Tiana pointed out.
Especially for someone who had been dealing with criminals by proxy the way she had. Granted she didn’t go out in the field, but she read reports and tracked down evidence to nail criminals and put them away.
She studied his profile for a moment, trying to find another way to get the information she both needed and desperately sought. “So you’re interested in acquiring some of the girls he has?”
“I am.”
“Have you gotten to see any of them?” She did her best to make it sound as if she were just having a regular conversation, not holding her breath, waiting for his answer.
“Just some assorted photos.” His gaze revealed a flicker of suspicion toward her. “He has me on ice, same as you.”
“You got to see photographs,” she pointed out. “That is not same as me.”
“I’m a little closer to the finish line than you are,” he told her. And also, the man, no doubt, had decided he wanted to toy with her first. And because he was undoubtedly having her checked out, just as he had him, Brennan thought. His identity had been fabricated by the chief of Ds’ daughter–in-law, so there were no holes. He wondered if this woman’s identity was just as airtight—or if she would wind up being in trouble.
Not your concern. You’re not here to rescue her. You’re saving kidnap victims, remember?
“So, what do the girls in the photographs look like?” she asked.
He heard the tension in her voice, even though she was doing her best to hide it. What was that all about?
“Like girls,” he told her. “Young girls,” he added, emphasizing the word young.
That didn’t help her any, didn’t get her any closer to finding Janie. “I mean, are they blondes, brunettes, redheads?”
“Yeah, they are,” he answered, studying her as he answered her question. He saw impatience crease her forehead. “All three,” he added. “Why? Do your clients have a ‘type’ as well as an age requirement?” he asked.
She paused for a moment, then replied, “Strawberry blondes.”
Janie was a strawberry blonde and it was driving her crazy that she couldn’t find out whether or not her sister was even here. All this role-playing, all this spinning of wheels and it could all be for nothing.
Maybe Janie had managed to get away from Wayne before he’d come here. Or maybe she escaped while whoever it was that had killed Wayne was busy eliminating him.
Tiana bit her lower lip, knowing she was clutching at straws.
“Like you?” he asked, turning down the next block.
“Blonder,” she automatically corrected, then added, “I’ve got red hair, not strawberry blonde.”
“Now that I think of it, there were a couple of those in the batch Roland let me look at. Strawberry blondes,” he elaborated in case she thought he was referring to redheads. “How many are you looking for?”
She did her best to sound businesslike, not wanting to arouse any undue suspicions on his part. For all she knew, everything he’d told her was a lie and he was working for Roland and charged with checking her out firsthand.
“That all depends on what they look like in person. As many as Roland currently has to start with.”
A thought occurred to her as she was talking to the man she was forced to interact with. She had brought a photograph of Janie to show around. She needed to find out if Wayne had brought her sister with him to the motel or if Janie had become Roland’s “property” before then.
Think like a CSI, not like a sister, Tiana ordered herself. It was her only hope and the best course of action, but that didn’t mean that it was easy.
She needed to gather together as much information as she could. Right now, until it started to make more sense, everything she could get her hands on was a potential piece of the puzzle. She was aware that there were bound to be pieces that didn’t fit, that didn’t belong to the puzzle at all, but she wouldn’t know that until she’d examined each piece to see what, if anything, it had to offer.
By this time, anxious to get started, she was practically sitting on the edge of her seat despite the seat belt that was all but cutting her in half as it continued to restrain her.
“I am taking you back to your car,” he told her after a couple of minutes of silence had lapsed between them.
She slanted an impatient glance in his direction. Why was he saying that? Was he trying to divert her attention from something? If that was the case, she hadn’t a clue what it could be.
“I know that.”
“You sure?” he asked.
Her body language told him that something else was going on, but he knew she wasn’t about to volunteer anything. Maybe if he made a right guess, she might give herself away for a split second. It was all he had to work with.
It occurred to him again that she could be exactly what she claimed to be, but something in his gut said she was only playing at this “madam” thing until it got her the goal she had her sights on. Whatever the hell that turned out to be.
“The way you’re sitting on the edge of your seat, you look like you’re going to take flight the second I stop the car.”
“Just your imagination,” she said, dismissing his question.
“I don’t have one,” he said simple.
“Everyone has one,” she told him. “You just don’t realize it.”
He took a corner and she could see the motel up ahead on the right. He had begun to signal his intention to make a right turn in order to enter the parking lot when she told him, “You can stop the car right here. I can walk the rest of the way to my car.”
“I figured I’d give you door-to-door service,” he quipped.
“No need,” she said, already unbuckling her seat belt.
He anticipated her next move. This was one bullheaded woman. “I guess I’d better stop before you leap out of the car,” Brennan said, pulling the sedan over to the side.
The second he did, he saw her get out. He hadn’t even have time to turn his engine off.
“Thanks,” she tossed over her shoulder. “See you.” And with that, she pushed the passenger door closed and hurried up the block to the rear lot. She’d left her vehicle parked there.
But rather than get into it once she reached it, Tiana deliberately paused for a moment beside it, then got in.
Her key was in her hand, but it never entered the ignition. Instead, she did a mental countdown.
Waiting.
Then, when she was satisfied that Wayne had driven by and was on his way back to the flesh peddler they had just left, Tiana got out of her car and hurried into the motel’s rental office.
The manager, a slight man whose sparse hair was a shade of bootblack that looked so lifelessly artificial, it screamed hair dye from a block away, had his eyes glued to a flat-screen that looked far too expensive for the man to own.
She cleared her throat to get his attention. When she failed, she cleared her throat a second time, a great deal more loudly this time. It had the same results. Finally, she said in a loud voice, “Excuse me.”
Instead of turning around and giving her his attention, the small man held up his right index finger, as if that would put her on hold until he was ready to deal with her.
“Be with you in a minute,” he muttered. “Wait for a commercial.”
“All right,” she retorted, thinking that the man might be more receptive if she played along and let him watch what looked to her to be a brain-numbing display of pyrotechnics thinly disguised as a story.
But when the commercial break came a couple of minutes later, the motel manager quickly clicked his remote to bring him to another channel.
“Excuse me,” she tried again only to have him hold up his index finger the way he had done the first time and repeat the same comment he’d already said a couple of minutes earlier. “Wait for a commercial.”
She drew out her weapon and said in a very even voice, “Unless you want me to shoot a hole in the middle of that damn flat-screen, you’ll talk to me now.”
The manager glanced contemptuously at her, thinking she was merely issuing a baseless threat. The second he saw the gun in her hand, he quickly turned completely around to face her, his hands raised high over his head. “The cashbox only has credit card receipts in it—”
“I’m not after your money,” she retorted. “All I want are a few answers.”
Cavanaugh Undercover Page 6
