“I want him dead.”
“I know, honey. But that’s not the way it works. Put the gun down and back away.”
Over the din of machinery, the sounds of shouting and footsteps reached her. The police were in the basement.
“Put down the gun, honey.”
Kate looked over at Jason. She wasn’t a killer. Her hand trembled. Very slowly, she bent and set the pistol on the ground. The next instant Vargas moved and a second gun appeared in his hand. Gunfire echoed, and Kate screamed as a barrage of bullets slammed into his body, knocking him backward, sending him sliding across the concrete floor.
The cops rushed toward her, but Jason reached her first, pulling her hard against him, enfolding her in his arms.
“It’s over, baby. It’s over.”
She buried her face in his chest. “Is he dead?”
“He’s dead. The cops got Reyburg, and there’s an ambulance on the way for Callie.”
She glanced around in search of the girl, saw a policewoman leading her away.
“It’s over,” she said.
Jason didn’t let go. “That’s right, honey. We’ll have to give the cops our statements. Then we can go home.”
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Denny Reyburg’s underground lair was a treasure trove of evidence for the Dallas police. Besides the king-size bed and lavish furnishings that provided all sorts of DNA, the converted storage tank held proof of Reyburg’s pedophilia in the form of photos and souvenirs from his encounters.
He was charged with committing forced sexual assault with a minor, kidnapping, attempted murder and a mile-long list of other offenses. His bodyguards and his driver were arrested as accomplices.
Special Agent in Charge Quinn Taggart showed up at the crime scene, a big blond man with a buzz cut. Jase filled him in and gave him the names of the massage parlors Tabby had uncovered. A few feet away, an EMT cleaned and bandaged Kate’s feet and gave her some paper slippers to wear till she got home.
Callie Spencer was taken to the hospital, where her mother was on her way from Houston to meet her.
“We’ll be winding this up as quickly as possible,” Agent Taggart said. “De Santos is being arrested as we speak. Kingsley’s handling that. We’ve got enough on him for racketeering, human trafficking and half dozen other charges. By morning, those three massage parlors will have been raided and arrests made.”
“What about Briton, Inc.?” Jase asked.
“Sorry, that’s FBI business.”
“Schram and Wiedel are both connected to all of this,” Kate argued. “Surely you must have something.”
“Like I said—”
“So I’m guessing you don’t have enough to charge them,” Jase said.
Taggart ignored him. “Go home and get some sleep. If we need you, I’ve got your number. Will I be able to find both of you there?”
Jase looked at Kate and pain sliced through his chest. As soon as Los Besos was dealt with, it would be time for them to go their separate ways. “For the time being,” he said.
One of the FBI agents took their statements. When they were finished, they went through it all over again with a Dallas PD detective. Finally, they were allowed to leave. Since the rented Mercedes was still parked at the club, a police car drove them back to Reese’s penthouse.
“I guess there’s no way I can go into the Blue Bayou and pick up my Jimmy Choos,” Kate grumbled as Jase carried her down the hall.
“Probably not.” Unlocking the door, he carried her inside and settled her on the sofa.
“How much longer do you think before we can go back to our own places?”
“Let’s see what happens tomorrow. If Kingsley’s right and De Santos is top dog in Los Besos, with him in jail, we should be safe. With any luck, Mark’ll call and bring us up to speed, or Taggart will. Worst case, we can read about it on the internet and Tabby can run some of it down for us.”
