by Radclyffe
Watts snorted, his good sense having vanished with the last ten-degree temperature drop. “And another thing—I’m freezing my nuts off while the kid with the fake johnson gets to watch the girls hump those shiny steel poles. Probably can’t even get a decent hard-on.”
Rebecca rubbed at the blistering headache that pounded between her eyes. “I don’t want to hear about your ass or your nuts or any other part of your anatomy, freezing or otherwise. I just want you to sit there and shut up. We’re on surveillance here, not Entertainment Tonight.”
“At least I’d be able to appreciate all the bare tits getting thrown around in there,” he grumbled. “So, can I smoke? It’s a department ride.”
“No,” Rebecca replied for the fifth time in an hour. She lifted her coffee cup, halted with it halfway to her face, and squinted at two figures approaching from the far end of the block. Softly she said, “Uh-oh. What’s this?”
*
“So,” Mitch said casually to the bartender when he passed him the beer, “Irina here tonight?”
“Who’s asking?”
“The name’s Mitch.”
The thick-necked, heavily muscled bartender took his time looking Mitch up and down. Then he laughed. “I don’t think you’ve got what she’s looking for.”
“She seemed to like it fine last night.”
His dark brows furrowed, and he swiped his damp towel over the polished surface of the bar in annoyance. “It’s not my job to keep track of the girls. I haven’t seen her tonight, okay?”
“Is she usually here?” Mitch persisted.
“Look, fella,” he said with disdainful emphasis, “if you want somebody to ride your rod, just offer any of the girls up on the stage twenty bucks. They don’t care what it’s made of as long as your cash is green.”
“I was looking forward to Irina doing that.”
“If she and her girls ain’t here by now, they ain’t coming. I guess you’ll just have to go home and jerk off.”
Mitch’s pulse picked up. “Other girls? You mean besides the ones here already?” He knew he was pushing, but there was something he was missing, something about Irina that he should understand, but didn’t.
The bartender seemed not to have heard, his attention focused on something across the room. Mitch turned in that direction, and his racing heart stuttered to a stop while his stomach convulsed with shock. A pretty Asian girl wended her way between the tables, followed closely by Sandy.
For an instant, Sandy looked in Mitch’s direction, and when their eyes met, there was nothing in Sandy’s expression to suggest that she had ever seen Mitch before in her life.
*
“What did you say this guy’s name was?”
“I didn’t.” Trudy shrugged. “I don’t think he ever said. He’s got some kind of accent...I don’t know what. Italian. Russian. Something like that.”
“Huh. Look, I’m gonna get a drink. You want something?”
“Nah.” Trudy sat at one of the tables opposite the kings and Jasmine. “He should be here soon.”
Sandy sauntered to the bar and edged a hip up onto a stool six seats down from where Mitch still leaned his back against the bar. The bartender took his time approaching, and when he got within earshot, she said, “Would it be too much trouble for you to get me a beer?”
“Would it be too much trouble for you to suck my dick?”
“Not if the price is right.”
He laughed. “You think in a place like this I have to pay for it?”
“If I told you what I think, I might not get my beer.” Sandy lifted a shoulder, a slow easy smile on her face. “And I’m very thirsty.”
Still laughing, he pulled a bottle of Budweiser from the cold case beneath the bar, popped the top, and slid it to her. “Four bucks.”
Sandy pulled a bill from a slit pocket beneath the waistband of her crotch-high red skirt. Her shoes were the same deep red, and she wore a black satin top with spaghetti-string straps.
“Give me five minutes in the back room, and you can keep your money.” As he spoke, his eyes dipped to her breasts and fixed on the outline of tight nipples stretching the shiny material.
“You wouldn’t last a minute, but it’s still not worth my time.” She pushed the bill across the bar.
As he snorted and picked up the money, Sandy hefted the bottle and turned in Mitch’s direction. Their eyes met, and Sandy nodded, then turned and walked away.
*
“What do you think?” Watts asked.
“I think there’s going to be a meet right now,” Rebecca said sharply. “Christ almighty. We’ve got three people in there, and we’re deaf and blind out here. There’s no way we’re going to know what’s going on.”
“She should have waited, God damn it.” Furious, Watts regarded the windowless door of the sex club. “We were supposed to get her the wire tomorrow.”
“She gets the call, she goes. Sandy knows the game.” Rebecca’s stomach writhed with apprehension, but her voice was cool, her face expressionless. “Jasmine and Mitch will keep an eye on her while she’s inside.”
“Right—a flaming fruit civilian and a rookie whose head is harder than her dick.”
“They’ll stand up,” Rebecca murmured, recognizing Watts’s insults for what they were—concern. Gaze nailed to the door, she willed Sandy to walk back through it. Come on, sweetheart. Bring him out to us.
“You want I should call for backup?”
“For what? Right now all we’ve got is a CI looking for information.” Rebecca shook her head, then, with more confidence than she felt, said, “We’ll tail them when they leave—find his studio.”
“This don’t smell right.”
I know.
*
A few minutes later, Mitch watched from the bar as a muscular, dark-haired man in a surprisingly expensive-looking suit entered from the rear of the room. The newcomer stopped at the far corner of the stage where two women continued to gyrate and casually, but thoroughly, surveyed the room. After his perusal of the bar’s occupants, the man walked to Sandy’s table and sat down.
It was the guy from the video. There was no way for Mitch to get close enough to hear the conversation. All he could do was watch helplessly as the man leaned forward and put his fingers beneath Sandy’s chin, then turned her head from one side to the other. Acid burned a hole in Mitch’s stomach, and when the stranger ran a thick index finger down the side of Sandy’s neck and then between her breasts, Mitch’s vision blurred with a combination of rage and sick terror.
Do the job. He forced himself to walk casually back to his seat. As he sat, he slid an arm around Jasmine’s shoulders. “You see them?”
“Yes.” Jasmine snuggled beneath Mitch’s arm, keeping her voice low. Mitch’s body vibrated with tension. “Take it easy. Nothing’s going to happen in here.”
“I’m not worried about in here.”
“Rebecca’s outside.”
Mitch stiffened as Sandy, Trudy, and the man rose. “They’re gonna go out the back door. Frye won’t see them leave.”
“Mitch,” Jasmine warned as Mitch stood. “What—”
“I’ll take my bike down the alley next door and come around on the street behind the bar. I should be able to pick them up from there. Tell Frye.”
“Wait for backup.”
But Mitch was already halfway to the door, and he was not turning back. He was not going to let Sandy disappear into the night.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Oh fuck me, now what is this action?” Watts stiffened as he watched the figure emerge from the club on the run.
Wordlessly, Rebecca keyed the ignition in the unmarked police vehicle the instant she recognized Mitchell race toward the big Harley parked at the curb. The young cop swung a leg over the motorcycle, started the engine with one swift, hard leg kick, and wheeled the motorcycle down the alley next to the building that housed the bar. In less than five seconds, she had disappeared from sight.
&
nbsp; “Back door,” Rebecca grunted as she pulled the car into the street.
“Hold it a minute!” Watts turned in his seat with some difficulty and reached behind to release the lock on the rear door when Rebecca hit the brakes.
The door swung open and Jasmine tumbled in, breathless. “Thanks. They’re on their way...out the...rear exit.”
“How many?” Rebecca gunned the engine, which responded lethargically, and silently cursed the fact that she didn’t have her Vette. Unfortunately, a red Corvette made a poor surveillance vehicle.
“I only saw Sandy, Trudy, and one male—the guy from the video.”
“Did you see the vehicle?”
“No.”
God damn it. Rebecca gritted her teeth, knowing that they’d been caught unprepared. But they were in it now, and she couldn’t leave Sandy out there alone. She turned right through a red light at the corner and accelerated down the block to a narrow street that ran parallel to the one fronting Ziggie’s. “What the hell is Mitchell doing?”
“Following them,” Jasmine reported grimly.
“Jesus Christ.” Slowing, Rebecca edged the vehicle into what was little more than a wide alley. Most of the buildings that backed up to it were dark. “Watts—you see anything?”
“Nothing. It’s too goddamned—”
“There!” Jasmine pointed through the windshield as she leaned forward over the front seat. “At the other end of the alley—I think I saw taillights.”
Since she had no choice, Rebecca eased the car down the alley, weaving deftly between dumpsters and piles of loose boxes and trash. When she reached the far end, she looked to her left and saw the motorcycle just disappearing around the corner. With a screech of tires, she rocketed the sedan in that direction.
At almost four in the morning, there was very little traffic in North Philadelphia. Since she hadn’t seen the target vehicle, she was forced to follow the motorcycle, hoping that Mitchell could manage to keep the suspect in sight. She followed the motorcycle as closely as she dared, using the few cars that were on the road for cover.
“Jesus H. Christ on a crutch,” Watts muttered. “I hope to hell that rookie doesn’t give himself...herself...ah, fuck...the tail away. If these guys think they’ve been made, they’ll do those girls and dump them somewhere.”
Since Watts was right, Rebecca said nothing, her jaws clamped tight and her unblinking eyes fixed hard on the road in front of her. As they turned onto a dark street of mostly abandoned buildings and empty lots, she was surprised when Mitchell accelerated fast and disappeared, the red taillight of the motorcycle fading like a candle extinguished in the wind.
“What just happened?” Jasmine’s voice was tight with anxiety.
“Let’s hope that was a signal,” Rebecca murmured as she pulled to the curb behind a broken-down car that sat tireless on rusted rims. She looked in all directions and saw no sign of life. There were half a dozen vehicles parked along both sides of the street, but no one on foot and no lights in any of the buildings.
“What do you think?” Watts asked as the seconds ticked by and the silence in the car grew heavy.
“We wait.”
Five minutes passed.
Six.
No one spoke.
Seven.
Rebecca tilted her head, concentrating on a faint rumble in the distance. It could have been thunder, but the sky was clear, and it was too late in the season for that kind of storm.
Eight.
She glanced in the rearview mirror. There were no streetlights and little moon, and the view behind her was shrouded in gloom. As she watched, a ghostlike form emerged from the shadows.
Nine.
Watts glanced over his shoulder. “Son of a bitch.”
Driving without lights, Mitchell slid the big motorcycle in behind the surveillance sedan and cut the engine. Keeping low, she came alongside the vehicle and tapped on Watts’s door.
“Where are they?” Watts asked as he opened the door to find Mitchell crouched beside the car.
“Fourth building down from the end of the street on the right. Warehouse of some kind. I don’t know what floor they’re on. He parked the SUV in a service alley beside it.” She worked hard to keep her voice steady. The entire time she’d been following the Explorer, she’d been thinking about Sandy in there, knowing what would happen to both girls if she blew it. “I was afraid he’d made me when he slowed down, so I had to get out of there. I didn’t want to come back right away in case they were listening for the bike.”
“Okay,” Rebecca said briskly. “Watts, call for two black-and-whites for backup. We’ll take one unit in with us and put another on the vehicle in the alley.”
“You want me to put out a Code 30?”
“Uh-uh. If we call for officer assistance, we’ll have twenty cars here and no way to coordinate. I want to go in fast and quiet. No advance warning. Surprise is our only advantage.”
“You want to take him now?” Watts asked flatly.
“We have him ID-ed from the video. We know he’s in there with at least one minor and violating local, state, and federal laws. I’d say we have probable cause.”
“If they’re broadcasting live, we’re gonna tip off everyone who’s watching.”
“It’s not the usual night or time for a live feed.” She glanced at Mitchell, whose eyes were riveted on her face. “Besides, if we don’t move on this now, Sandy and Trudy are going to have to go through with the video.”
Watts’s face hardened. “Then let’s bust up his party.”
As Watts reached for the radio to call it in, Rebecca turned to Jasmine. “Stay here. Once we’ve secured the place, I’ll want you to come in and take a look at the computer setup. I don’t want to run the risk of losing whatever data is there.”
“I can handle a weapon, Sergeant.” She smiled. “Although if I had known this was going to happen tonight, I wouldn’t have worn these heels.”
Rebecca laughed, her tension dissipating as she prepared for the operation. “I have a feeling you’d be just fine, heels or no heels, but I’d rather keep you out of that kind of action.”
“What about me?” Mitchell asked.
“I don’t want you seen by the suspect. It would blow your cover, and we may still have work for Mitch.”
Mitchell’s eyes blazed. “Sandy’s in there.”
“I know exactly who’s in there, Officer, and I’m ordering you to stay clear.”
“Black-and-whites are on the way, Sarge. Five minutes.” Watts leaned toward Rebecca and said quietly, “You gotta get a vest on, Sarge. Christ, you’re not even cleared for street duty. And if the doc finds ou—”
“In a minute.” Rebecca was still studying Mitchell’s face, judging whether the officer would hold. She liked what she saw. “Okay. Back up the uniforms in the alley, Officer. But I want you to stay out of sight unless absolutely necessary. Am I clear?”
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. Just do the job.”
*
It was cold in the cavernous warehouse. Colder than Sandy had expected, and things were moving a lot faster than she’d anticipated, too. She’d hoped during the disorienting ride through the unfamiliar part of town that Mitch and Frye would be close behind. That somehow they would end this.
But they weren’t there, and it had begun.
Sandy tried to get a good look at the second guy—the one who’d been waiting inside and who was now monitoring the equipment and adjusting the lights. She wanted to be able to describe him for Frye. It was difficult to see him because Victor—at least that’s what he’d said his name was—was blocking her view. Plus the other guy was moving around in the shadows outside the area lit by the bright spotlights. She was pretty sure she could tell Frye where this place was, although she’d never been in this part of the city before.
“Try looking like you’re enjoying this, honey,” Victor whispered with his mouth close to her ear. He glanced down. “Your frie
nd is.”
She hadn’t thought it would go down this way, but there she was, and she didn’t have much choice but to go through with it. Sandy turned her face away from his and focused on some distant point. She’d been there a thousand times before, and she knew she wouldn’t feel his hands or the weight of his body. She wouldn’t hear his voice, or his breathing, or the words he would whisper when he thought he owned her. She would be gone; inside her head, inside her heart, he would be nothing...
The sound of splintering wood, pounding footsteps, and hoarse shouts jerked Sandy back to the present. When Victor rolled away cursing, Sandy gripped Trudy and pulled her roughly to the floor beside the bed.
“Keep your head down,” Sandy cried, and curled around the terrified girl.
*
Against Watts’s objections, Rebecca went through the door first, with him and two uniformed officers right behind her. She took in the big room in one sweeping glance. The studio setup was right in the middle and brightly lit. Same bed, same backdrop, same pathetic props. Same star, except this time the woman he had his hands on was Sandy, and Rebecca wanted to drop him in his tracks. Her blood was burning, but her mind was crystal clear.
She shouted police and never stopped running until she had her weapon in his face and her knee in his crotch. Then she flipped him onto his stomach and slapped on the restraints.
“The other guy’s headed out the back,” one of the uniforms yelled and ran after him.
“Watts, cover this guy.” Rebecca got quickly to her feet and glanced at Sandy. You okay?
Sandy nodded, her face pale but her eyes clear. She smiled weakly. Glad ya made it.
“And keep your eye on these two,” Rebecca ordered for the suspect’s benefit as she headed after the uniforms to join in the pursuit.
Sandy wanted to ask where Dell was, but she wasn’t supposed to know these cops. She wasn’t supposed to be anything other than a hooker making some quick money in a skin flick. But the question was in her eyes as she looked at Watts. He was looking at the guy on the floor like he wanted to kick him. Or worse.
