Ben nodded. "Yep. To take the shooter's attention off Bax. Damn, she's a hell of a woman, Luke."
Luke nodded. "You'll get no argument from me on that score. At any rate, Bax put the car into gear and it shot forward. Jasmine jumped in, pushed Bax down on the floor and hightailed it out of there. Bax said they were going to go home, pick up Jasmine's roommate—another dancer who went by the name of Rosebud—and take off. Rosebud, by the way, was really Jenny Lee Walker. But when they got there, there were police cars outside, and they were carrying a body out of the building with a sheet over it. Bax said her hand fell free, and he saw it and knew it was Rosebud, and that she was dead. He also saw the cop who seemed to be in charge of things—and he swears it was the same guy who tried to kill him back at the club. He says his mother saw the man, too, and he thought that was why she was so scared."
Garrett nodded slowly, taking it all in. "Was Bax able to explain how Jasmine got hold of Rosebud's ID, and that packet from her lawyer?"
Luke nodded. "He said Rosebud asked his mom to pick up her bag from the club while she was there picking up her check. Said Rosebud was forgetful—was always leaving her purse everywhere and having to go back for it. I'm assuming the envelope from the lawyer was there with it. The address on it was in care of The Catwalk, and I wondered about that from the first time I saw it."
"So the question is," Wes said slowly, "why the hell did they murder the roommate?"
"I've been wondering that myself," Luke said. "But it's possible they didn't see Jasmine up close enough to know for sure who she was. If they looked around the place to see who'd been there, they'd have found both women's checks gone, and Rosebud's bag, as well. It could have been either one of them."
"So they decided to just murder them both, to be safe?" Elliot asked.
"And the little boy, too," Luke said. "But when Jasmine and Bax got away, they decided to frame Jasmine for her best friend's murder. That's what I found in the computer last night. A warrant for her arrest. God knows it couldn't have taken much. Not when Rosebud's wallet, her latest paycheck, her credit cards and her roommate all turned up missing at once. They had to know they'd find those things on Jasmine when she finally turned up, making her look even more guilty."
"Sure," Garrett said. "What better way to see to it they got their hands on her again than to put out a warrant on her? Especially on a murder charge. She'd be hunted down by law enforcement, brought back to Chicago as a prisoner and her son as a ward of the state. Easy prey at that point. For a man who calls himself a cop, anyway."
Luke felt a darkness settle over his heart. "And now she's decided to face these animals all on her own. If they hurt her, I swear…"
Garrett's hand closed on his shoulder from behind. "We'll get there in time, Luke."
"Yeah," Luke said softly. "Yeah. We have to."
She drove for nearly twenty-four hours straight through, stopping briefly at an all night convenience store before she hit the club. She used the store's rest room mirror and most of the makeup in her bag, and she changed clothes. She needed to look like the same Jasmine who'd run away from here. But she didn't feel the same. Something … something had changed.
The club was dim when she arrived. Chairs upside down atop tables, nothing but ghosts inside. And Leo. He came out from the back, onto the main floor, never looking up to see her standing there, just inside the door, waiting. Jasmine had taken her time, made sure he was alone, before she'd come inside. Leo moved behind the bar, started wiping glasses and lining them up one by one. One of his early-morning rituals that always took place hours and hours before opening time. She'd known exactly where to find him.
Her high heels clicked with purpose as she stepped toward him, and Leo looked up from his task, spotting her at last. He looked as surprised as if he'd spotted Elvis coming toward him.
"Hello, Leo."
He smiled slyly. "Welcome back, Jasmine." He set down the glass he'd been polishing and slung the towel over his shoulder. "Where you been?"
"Around."
He shrugged, and one hand slipped out of sight beneath the counter. Jasmine brought her gun around in front of her. "Uh-uh-uh. Keep your palms flat to the bar, boss. Where I can see them."
Leo swallowed hard, his gaze focused on her gun, his Adam's apple bulging. "Just take it easy," he said. His palms slid flat to the bar's gleaming surface. "I know you're probably upset about Rosebud. Hell, we all are. You know, they think you did it."
"Lucky for me you know I didn't."
"Well sure I do! I never believed it for a minute, Jasmine. I tried to tell the cops that, but—"
"Come out from behind the bar," she snapped, using the gun's barrel to direct him as he moved. "Right here. Take a couple chairs down so we can sit and have a talk." She reached behind her and turned the dead bolt lock on the front door. She knew the back one would be locked. It was almost always locked. Only opened from the inside. She stepped forward, waited for Leo to sit, and when he did, she sat down opposite him. Out of his reach, though.
"What do you want to talk about?"
"The dirty cop you're mixed up with, for starters. The one who shot the undercover Fed in your office last week. Petronella. What's his first name? Gianni?"
Leo's brows slammed down hard. "So it was you out there in the alley."
"It was me. You didn't see me?"
He shook his head. "Just the kid." Then he looked up fast. "It wasn't me takin' shots at your kid, Jasmine. It was him. I wouldn't hurt a kid. You know that."
"I didn't see you trying to stop him."
"He'd have popped me if I had."
"Oh, hell, in that case, sure. Let him off a little boy. Who wouldn't? Besides anyone with a soul."
Leo's eyes narrowed. "Is that gun even loaded?"
"You wanna find out?"
He went silent.
"So that's why you killed Rosebud. We shared the car, and Bax was with her as often as with me. You had no clue which one of us witnessed the murder."
"I didn't have anything to do with … with what happened to Rosebud," Leo said.
"No?"
"No!"
"Then how did the bastard know where we lived?"
Leo lowered his head, averted his eyes. "Look, I don't like the guy any better than you do. But I don't have any choice but to deal with him."
"Why?"
He looked up slowly. "He's a cop. He could shut me down if he wanted to. You know damn well some of the girls take customers upstairs after a show."
"And you get a cut of the take."
"It's my bar."
Jasmine nodded. "And then there's the gambling."
"You know about that?"
She nodded once. "Every Saturday night in the back room, midnight till dawn. Sure I know about it. Everybody knows about it."
Sighing, Leo said, "Yeah, everybody. Including Gianni Petronella. When he found out about that, he upped the payment plan. Started demanding more and more of a payoff to look the other way, and even started showing up some weekends to play cards with the customers. And then this new kid came along. Terry Peck. Became a regular before we knew it. And he turned out to be a Fed."
"So you guys decided to kill him? Leo, do you have any idea how insane that is?"
"I didn't know Gianni was gonna pop the guy, I swear! He said we would meet with him in my office. Talk to him. When he pulled out that gun and put a bullet in him, I couldn't even believe it."
Nodding slowly, Jasmine said, "Looks like you're in over your head, Leo. So am I. But I'll tell you what. We're gonna help each other out of it."
"Oh, no," Leo said. "I'm not making a move against Petronella. You think I wanna end up like that Fed? No way, I won't do it."
"Yes, you will, Leo. Because I've got sworn testimony sitting in a lawyer's office right now. I've written down everything I know, and I got friends to sign off on it, backing me up. If you don't do exactly what I tell you, it's going to the D.A. And you're going down. Not just for the gamblin
g and the prostitution, Leo. But for killing a federal agent. I was there. I saw it. You understand?"
He shook his head. "I should've let him kill you."
"You didn't do a damn thing to stop him from killing me. My kid did that."
"Yeah, there you go, what about your kid? You make a move like this, Gianni Petronella will take his revenge out on him. You know that, don't you? The guy's ruthless."
"My kid is in a place where a dozen guys like Gianni Petronella couldn't get at him. He's safe, Leo. But you aren't. Not unless you play this my way. We'll bring Petronella down. And we'll do it together. Or else. All right?"
Lowering his head, Leo swore a long streak. Then, finally, he lifted his head again, met her eyes and said, "What do you want me to do?"
"First," she said, stiffening her resolve, calling up all her courage, "I need my old job back."
It was a long, tense drive, with stops only when absolutely necessary. They hit Chicago with little more than the name of the strip club and the directions Lash had written out for them. It took a road map and a telephone book to get more precise about locale, and a short while later, they were there. They parked next to the curb, in front of the brick building with the red door and a neon silhouette of a nude woman in the window over the words The Catwalk. The window was dark. There wasn't another vehicle in sight.
"I'll check out back," Wes said, getting out of the car. Without a word, Elliot got out and went with him. Luke nodded vaguely at them, and went to the front entrance. But it was locked, and he couldn't see much at all through the windowpane.
Behind him, Garrett said, "We should have expected this, Luke. Places like this don't open till the sun goes down. Eight o'clock according to the sign there."
Luke grated his teeth to keep from shouting obscenities. Dammit, where was Jasmine? What the hell was she doing? She could be hurt … or worse, and he would never know.
"Back's deserted. No cars, no lights, the place is locked up tight," Elliot said as he and Ben came back around the corner.
"We're just gonna have to wait it out, Luke," Ben told him gently.
"There has to be a way we can find her. Let's check the apartment where she used to live. The neighborhood. We can drive around." He stopped there, knowing how useless it would be. They would never find Jasmine in a place this big, not unless she wanted to be found. At least, not until she came back to the club. And Luke was certain she would.
Garrett herded them all back into the car. They spent the longest day of Luke's life chasing shadows, and they didn't find Jasmine. Of course they didn't. He'd known they wouldn't. And still it damn near killed him to stop hunting, even to go back to the club.
But things got considerably worse when, as they finally headed back to the club in order to be there when it opened, the SUV blew a tire.
The club was full to capacity when Jasmine took the stage—but it wasn't the way it had been before. Before, she and Rosebud used to dance, then scoop up the money thrown at them and laugh to themselves that men were so stupid. Now … hell, now she just felt disgusted by those men. Because she'd learned that it wasn't some kind of genetic fault of the male sex that made them act that way. All men weren't like the grunting hogs in the club. There were good men out there. Honest ones, who cared about more than glimpsing a strange woman's body or copping a feel or getting laid. There were men like Luke Brand.
She wouldn't have believed it possible a month ago. Now, though, her tolerance level for these other men had reached an all-time low. They made her physically ill. But she had put the plan into motion now, and she had to play it out. So she danced, and the bass pounded in her temples, and she smelled the booze, sweat and smoke of the place and wondered how she'd done it for so long.
But then she saw what she wanted to see out there in the crowd. At his table, with Leo. Gianni Petronella. And one of the girls, a seasoned pro named Grace, was giving him a little lap dance, exactly as planned. Petronella was so distracted by the wriggling on his lap and the flesh in his face that he hadn't even noticed Jasmine yet. But when Grace got up, he looked, and his face went cold. Jasmine sent him a smile and saw his face tighten with impotent rage. Because what could he do? Blow her away right there on the stage? No, he would have to wait. And then she would have him.
She finished her number and left the stage, leaving the bills scattered on the floor for the next dancer to pick up. Backstage, she passed Grace. "Did you get it?" she asked.
Grace nodded and slapped the cold metal into Jasmine's hand. Jasmine glanced down at the clip from Petronella's handgun. "Thanks, Grace," she said.
"I loved Rosebud, too, you know," Grace told her. "You get the bastard, hon."
* * *
Chapter 12
« ^ »
It was after ten when the five tired, hungry, cranky Brand men strode through the front doors of the inner-city strip club. Luke needed a shower, a shave and a change of clothes. Though to tell the truth, he didn't much care how he looked to patrons of a place like this one. Not that any of them were looking at him, anyway.
No. Their focus was elsewhere, and he couldn't much blame them.
A small red-tinted spotlight cut through the smoke-veiled room to fall on the woman who was just now slinking her way onto the stage in time with a pounding backbeat. She wore shoes that consisted of little more than a foot-long spike heel and a toe strap. Her long, shapely legs played a game of peek-a-boo from behind their weblike stockings. She wore long black gloves, a body suit made mostly of black mesh, with leg openings that seemed waist high, a strategically placed black feather boa and a sequined face mask. All told, not a hell of a lot. Men hooted and whistled and howled like wolves, and the music blasted louder, and the woman twined the boa around herself as if it was about to become her next lover. Hands reached and groped, and lewd remarks were shouted.
"Hey, baby, lean down here, I have what you need!"
"Jasmine," Luke whispered, tensing.
A hand came down on his shoulder. "Easy now," Garrett said.
The stage was only a small raised section of the floor, a platform about three feet higher than the rest of the room. The only thing between her curvaceous body gyrating on the stage and the groping, slavering drunks in the front row were a handful of sparsely placed bouncers.
One guy got between them and managed to plaster his palm to her backside before he got pushed back.
"Hold on now, Luke. Just take it easy!"
"I'll give them easy," Luke said, and he shook off Garrett's restraining hand and started shoving his way through bodies toward the stage.
"Ah, hell," Wes muttered. "It's gonna be that dive down in Pueblo Bonito all over again."
"Nah. We'll probably end up in an American jail this time," Elliot said, as he and the others began shoving their way through right behind Luke.
Luke paid little attention to whether or not they kept up. He plowed ahead until he reached the stage and, when a bouncer roughly the size and shape of a gorilla stepped up to block his path, he decked the guy. The bouncer went down hard. Luke used his chest as a step up to the stage. Someone yelled, and his masked beauty backed away as Luke strode up to her. Someone grabbed him from behind, and Luke spun around, swinging. His fist struck someone's jaw, and his attacker went down. But Luke wasn't the only one under attack at this point. In fact, the fight seemed to have spread from him to his cousins behind him, and even now was spreading further to uninvolved bystanders, who, upset at having their entertainment interrupted, were apparently amusing themselves by hauling off and popping the first guy who looked at them.
A chair flew past his head, and Luke grabbed his woman and pulled her low, out of its reach. Then he scooped her up, tossed her over his shoulder and strode across the stage, off the back of it and through the curtains there.
Petronella followed her into the back, just as Jasmine had intended. He came up behind her, gripped her arm and propelled her past the dressing room and into Leo's office. Good. That was exactly wh
at she wanted.
"You don't need to manhandle me, Gianni," she told him. "I came back here to make a deal."
He closed the office door, threw the lock. "You got nothing I want," he said.
"How sure are you of that?" She walked to the desk, pulled out Leo's chair and sat down. "Look, if I were going to turn you in, don't you think I'd have done it by now? God knows I was mad enough to, after you murdered my roommate."
He narrowed his eyes. "You're coming with me," he said, pulling out his gun.
"And what if I don't? What are you gonna do? Shoot me right here, in a bar full of people?"
"Hell, sweetie, they won't even hear the shot with all the noise out front."
She frowned. It was noisier than hell out there. "Come on. Let's keep this clean. Come on out to the car. I kill one more person in his office, Leo will have a heart attack."
She nodded slowly. "This isn't fair, you know. It wasn't my fault I walked into this damn bar when I did—just in time to see you put a bullet in that guy's head."
"Tough break," Petronella said. "But that's life."
"I heard he was some kind of cop," she asked.
"Fed. A damned nosy one."
She licked her lips. "So that's it. You have to kill me then?"
"I got no choice, babe. It's nothing personal."
Again she nodded. Then she glanced down at the telephone on Leo's desk. She said, "Did you get all that?"
Petronella frowned hard. "What? What are you—"
"Every word," a voice said from the other end of the phone. "All of it on tape."
Petronella yanked out his gun, brandishing it at her. "What are you trying to pull?"
She shrugged. "Hell, Gianni, I'm just admiring the wonders of speaker phone. Leaves the hands free to run the tape recorder, you know? If you shoot me now, we'll have that murder on tape live, rather than just a confession."
Lunging forward, Petronella grabbed the phone's handset. "Who is this?" he demanded. "Where are you?"
THE HOMECOMING Page 14
