“Will do.”
“Thank you, Tabby,” Kate said.
“Give ’em hell, Kate.” Tabby hung up the phone.
Kate’s heart was beating a little faster when the addresses came through a few minutes later, both on the outskirts of Houston, along with phone numbers and websites. Kate pulled up the websites on her laptop. Daytime operation 10-6 p.m. Evenings by appointment.
She checked Google Maps to see what the exterior of the massage parlors looked like, found both buildings were low-rises. One was in a seedy neighborhood, a run-down structure in need of repair. The other was well maintained, even nicely landscaped, but there were iron bars on the second- and third-floor windows.
Thinking of the women inside, pity welled in Kate’s heart.
Jase pointed to the website that looked like a jail. “Garden of Eden. That’s got to be where they keep their prime, high-grade merchandise—the underage girls.”
“We have to get them out of there,” Kate said, trying not to imagine what the girls were suffering.
“We can call Agent Taggart and give him the info, but it’s going to set everything in motion. There won’t be any turning back. I want this over as much as you do, but we can’t afford to strike too soon.”
“You’re right,” Kate said. “If we do that, we could end up being the ones who pay—maybe the girls, too. I think we should wait and see what happens tonight.”
Jase nodded. “De Santos has something special planned. Let’s find out what it is.”
CHAPTER FORTY
Kate wore the black-trimmed pink crepe dress with the short flirty skirt. The halter top left her back bare, and of course she wore her black, super-high, Jimmy Choo heels.
Jason wore the black suit he’d had on last night with a collared, sapphire-blue silk shirt open at the throat. The color accented his eyes. The man could rock a suit, that was for sure.
The club was booming by the time they got there. A big dark-skinned bouncer whose name tag read Axel recognized them from the night before. “Names?”
“Devlin and Cordell.”
He checked them off the guest list. “Follow me.” Axel led them through the crowd to the back of the club where De Santo’s private elevator waited.
“No firearms.” Axel didn’t bother to ask if Jase had a gun with him, just lifted the lid of the inlaid wooden box next to the elevator. “You can pick up your piece when you leave.”
Jase flicked open his jacket and pulled his Kimber out of the holster clipped to his belt. He was Brock Devlin tonight, brash enough to carry whatever weapon he wanted. He set the pistol inside the box, and the bouncer closed the lid, turned and pushed the elevator button. Axel ushered them into a mirrored car that swept them up to De Santo’s third floor residence.
Kate stepped out of the elevator into an elegant, sophisticated living room with gray-and-white marble floors, and contemporary crystal chandeliers suspended from twelve-foot white molded ceilings. Huge silver-framed mirrors hung on the walls, reflecting the white silk furnishings and draperies, even a marble fountain.
De Santos had spent some major bucks on his extravagant apartment. Their host appeared to greet them in a designer tuxedo with black satin lapels. He walked gracefully toward them. “Mr. Devlin and Ms. Cordell. Welcome to my home.”
Jason smiled. “Brock and Kitty will do.”
“Of course. And I am Rafi.”
“Your home is beautiful, Rafi,” Kate said. “You have excellent taste in interior design.”
“Thank you. Perhaps later you will allow me to show you around.”
Kate smiled. She didn’t look at Jason. She knew the exact set of his jaw, the tight frown she would see marring his forehead. “I would enjoy that very much.”
“Looks like you went all out,” Jase said, managing to be polite. “What’s the occasion, Rafi?”
“A few special friends are in town. I wanted to make certain they had a good time.”
A waiter in a short white jacket offered a silver tray filled with champagne flutes. Kate took one of the long-stemmed glasses.
“It’s a ’98 Dom Perignon,” De Santos said. “A favorite of mine.”
