Not unless he absolutely had to. Jase surveyed the confining space that made him feel like he needed a shower.
“You know, Rena, the truth is I came here for more than just a massage. A friend of mine told me one of you ladies took real good care of him when he came here the last time he was in town.”
Rena flashed her impression of a seductive smile. “We’re all qualified massage therapists. Some of our customers require more specialized treatment, and of course we like to keep them happy.” She moved closer, ran her palms over this chest and down his arms. “You’re in real good shape, honey. You aren’t a cop, are you? I don’t need any trouble.”
“Ex-military. Same needs as every other guy.”
“All right. How much would you like to spend? Everything here is billed separately.”
He pulled out a fifty-dollar bill and Rena frowned. “A massage is sixty, hun. There’s a sign right on the front desk. Anything more is another hundred.”
He hadn’t missed the sign. “This is all I brought with me. Anyway, we can make some kind of deal?”
Rena shook her head. “Sorry. Management has very strict rules.”
Jase stuffed the bill back into his pocket. “I didn’t think it would cost so much. I’ll have to get some more cash and come back later.”
Her hand slid over the fly of his jeans and cupped him through the heavy fabric. “I’ll tell you what. I’m just filling in down here for a friend—I usually work upstairs. If you can come up with a couple of hundred, you can join our little party tonight. I can make you feel real good, Tom. Or if you prefer, you can choose one of the other girls.”
Exactly what he had been hoping. He knew how a brothel worked. He’d been stationed in Okinawa when he was a young marine. “That sounds good, Rena. What time?”
“Any time after ten, honey.” She handed him a plastic key card. “That’ll get you in the front door.”
“Thanks.” Jase flashed her a smile and walked out of the dingy room. As he stepped into the hall, he took note of an elevator up to the second and third floors, a set of stairs at the far end of the hall, then went back the way he had come.
The receptionist looked up as he passed. “That didn’t take long,” she said with a knowing smile.
“Been a while.” Jase winked. As soon as he got outside, he inhaled deeply, grateful to be breathing fresh air. Unfortunately, he would have to come back. Looked like his hunch could be right, and they were keeping women in the rooms upstairs.
Before he headed for the car, he circled the perimeter of the building, locating ways in and out, best place to park for an easy getaway. When he reached the parking lot of the Briar Forest apartment, he pulled out his burner phone and punched in the number for The Max.
Mindy answered. “Hi, Jason. Chase has been looking for you. Your phone doesn’t seem to be working.”
He rattled off the number of the disposable as he got out of the car. “I’ve got some trouble. Be careful who gets that number.”
“Okay, I’ll be careful. I’ll put you through to Chase.”
“Thanks.”
Chase picked up on the second ring. “Hawk. I’ve been trying to call you. What’s going on?”
“Had to switch to a burner. Don’t want them tracking me.” He explained to Chase about his conversation with Detective Castillo and Los Besos, about the truck stops and the raid that went south.
“Somebody tipped them, Chase. We got at least one dirty cop, which means they know my name.”
“Not good.”
“I got a lead on a brothel Los Besos runs, got an invite to sample some of the merchandise tonight. It could be the break we need, but I hate leaving Kate alone. The apartment feels safe, but I still don’t like it.”
“Listen, Jase, Reese is in Houston on business. He keeps an apartment just down the hall from the one you’re staying in. My brother has skills. He may not be ex-military, but he learned plenty during his black-sheep years before he wound up in juvy. He’ll have a weapon and he knows how to use it. I’ll call him, bring him up to speed.”
Jase knew the brothers’ story, knew that after their parents divorced, Chase and Brandon had been raised by their mother and her Irish cop family, while Reese had been raised by their megarich dad. Bass Garrett had spoiled his middle son rotten. Expensive cars and too much cash had been the formula for disaster. Reese had started running with a very bad crowd and wound up in trouble with the law. Even Bass’s millions couldn’t get him out of a year in juvenile detention.
Afterward, he had moved in with his mother, grandparents and brothers. His juvenile record had been sealed, and his family had helped him turn his life around.
“You’ve got Reese’s cell,” Chase continued. “He’ll be glad to help.”
Jase figured he would. Since the end of his marriage, Reese had been at loose ends. Plus, like Bran and Chase, Reese was a friend.
