Chase silently cursed.
The men haggled, settled on a price and the fat guy handed Martinez a couple of folded bills, which got stuffed into the pocket of the pimp’s dirty shirt. When Martinez tipped his head toward the stairs, indicating the deal had been struck, Chase rose and walked up to the bar, blocking the fat man’s way.
“I want the girl,” he said to Martinez. “I’ll pay for the whole night—whatever she’s worth. But I don’t take sloppy seconds.”
Martinez looked him over. Clearly Chase wasn’t one of the locals. “You’re not a cop, are you? You look like a cop.”
“Not a cop.” He let his gaze wander salaciously over the girl, ignored the poor kid’s cringe. “I just have a taste for something a little more...tender, shall we say.”
Martinez pulled the fat man’s money out of his pocket and handed it back. “Sorry, Bud. Gotta make a living.”
“Wait a minute! I seen her first.”
“Come back tomorrow night.” Martinez gripped the girl’s slim arm and hauled her over to Chase. “You better have the cash.”
“I can pay. Name your price.” Martinez rattled off an exorbitant sum, and Chase handed the money over.
Taking the girl’s arm, he led her toward the stairs. Tammy pulled back, clearly reluctant, but one glance at Martinez and she kept walking, her legs shaking with every step. Chase hadn’t missed the bruise on her cheek.
He tugged her up the stairs, didn’t pause until they reached the landing out of sight. “Don’t be afraid. I know who you are. I’m here to help you.”
She looked up at him with wide, doe-brown eyes that flooded with tears. “You mean it?”
“You can trust me, Tammy.” He could tell she wasn’t sure she should believe him, but he was her only hope.
As soon as they got into the cheesy bedroom, he pulled out his cell and called 9-1-1, identified himself and gave the police his location, told them he had found the missing girl.
“I made a mistake,” Tammy said tearfully when he ended the call. “That man downstairs...he found me and made me go with him. He made me do things...” She swallowed and wiped the wetness from her cheeks. “I just... I want to go home.”
“My name’s Chase Garrett. I’m a private detective. I’m going to get you back to your parents, Tammy. We just need to sit tight till the police get here.” He glanced at the sagging mattress, the orange bedspread covered with cigarette burns. He didn’t want to think what Martinez had made her do.
Tammy wrapped her arms around herself and shivered as if she were freezing, though the room was overly warm. “Thank you for helping me.”
He nodded, glad he had found her.
But, of course, it wasn’t that easy. Only a few minutes had passed before heavy footsteps pounded up the stairs. The door flew open, and Martinez walked into the room. The bed was still made and Tammy wasn’t naked, which pretty much told the story.
“I figured you were a cop.”
“I’m not a cop. I bought the whole night. I didn’t figure there was any need to hurry. And I’d appreciate a little privacy. For the money I paid, I don’t think that’s too much to ask.”
“Bullshit. Give me your wallet.”
“Not gonna happen,” Chase said, shaking his head. “We made a deal. You got paid. I get the girl.”
Martinez laughed and lunged forward like a pit bull entering the ring. He wasn’t laughing when Chase’s boot shot up and landed hard between his legs, lifting him clear off the floor.
Gasping and howling, Martinez dropped to his knees, fell over and rolled on the dirty brown carpet, clutching his balls and groaning, his face a weird bluish red.
Chase grabbed Tammy’s hand and tugged her toward the door. They raced down the dimly lit hall and tore down the stairs at breakneck speed. Unfortunately, when they reached the landing, what looked like half the bar waited for them at the bottom of the stairs. In this part of town, the bad guys had a habit of sticking together.
Chase jerked the little .380 out of the holster behind his back, and fired two shots into the ceiling, choosing a spot he hoped wouldn’t kill someone on the second floor. Plaster rained down and the crowd scattered, giving them a clear path to the door. Gun in hand, Chase pulled Tammy out the door onto the sidewalk.
“This way!” he shouted, keeping his gun aimed toward the front door as he headed for his truck. Police sirens wailed in the distance. Red and blue lights flashed and patrol cars roared around the corner, sliding to a stop in front of the bar. Car doors flew open and uniformed officers poured out, guns drawn.
Chase leaned down and set his pistol on the sidewalk in front of him, lifted his hands in the air. “Over here!” Officers spotted him, turned and ran in his direction.
“I’m Chase Garrett,” he said. “I’m a private detective. I’m the one who called you.”
