Kate and Reese sat next to Jason in front of the laptop as Jase used Google Maps to familiarize them with the area on Bissonnet near Paradise Massage, and went over observations he had made when he was there earlier. Entrance, exit in the rear, second set of stairs to the upper two floors.
It seemed as if it took forever for ten o’clock to finally arrive. At the same time, it seemed like a snap of the fingers. Since Jase was leaving ten minutes ahead of them, Kate walked him to the door.
“Be careful,” she said.
“Always.” His beautiful blue eyes locked on her face.
When Kate leaned up and pressed a soft kiss on his mouth, Jase hauled her into his arms and very thoroughly kissed her. “Stay safe,” he said a little gruffly.
Jase walked out the door, and Kate turned to see Reese watching her.
“He’s a good man,” Reese said.
“I know.”
Reese checked his Rolex. “We’ll give him enough time to get inside and settled before we arrive.” He had changed out of his business clothes, navy slacks and a blue Oxford shirt, into black cargo pants and a black T-shirt that hugged his body. Like Bran, he had a lean, broad-shouldered build. A semiautomatic pistol rode in a holster clipped to his waist.
He looked nothing like the important businessman he had been that afternoon. This man was tougher, edgier, not a guy you would want to mess with.
“You ready to go?” Reese asked.
Kate had also changed and was dressed in black. She had one last thing to do. Reese’s eyes widened when she walked out of the bedroom with the revolver holstered and clipped to the belt around her waist. She was getting the hang of this detective work. She wasn’t legal yet, but she planned to change that soon, and considering the circumstances, she wasn’t going in unprepared.
She pulled her T-shirt out to cover the weapon. “I’m ready.”
A smile touched the corner of Reese’s mouth. “So I see.”
The two of them walked out of the apartment.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Humid darkness enclosed the land around the building that housed Paradise Massage. Dim light oozed through the windows on the second and third floors. Jase walked straight to the front and used the key card to open the door.
There was no one in the reception area when he walked in, just a small lamp on an end table, burning into the shadows. The hallway leading to the massage rooms was dark. It was quiet except for the sounds of voices and people moving around upstairs.
He headed for the elevator. The plan was for Reese to follow, then park where he could see the Yukon, stay long enough to make sure Jase got out all right.
Jase didn’t like the idea that Kate would be with him, but he didn’t much like the notion of leaving her alone, either. Besides, he knew her well enough to know she was going one way or another. The good news was, he trusted Reese to keep her safe. And Reese was right—Jase needed the backup.
He rode the slow-moving car up to the second floor, and the doors opened into another dark hallway. He walked toward the light and music spilling out of an open doorway just down the hall, and paused in the entrance. The room was furnished with dark green velvet overstuffed sofas and chairs. Hors d’oeuvres trays loaded with meat and cheese covered a table next to a makeshift bar against the wall. Men of mixed nationalities and various employments occupied the furniture, some with scantily clad women perched on their laps.
Naked breasts bounced as the women laughed and strutted their wares. A woman in her forties approached him, silver-streaked dark hair, busty, with a slender figure. She wore more clothes than the others, black leggings and a low-cut black blouse belted with a gold sash and dangling gold earrings. The proverbial madam of the house.
Two large men stood against the wall, one at each end of the room, watching the customers. The woman was the mediator. The men were enforcers.
“Hello, handsome.” She smiled up at him. “I’m Veronica. You must be Tom.”
“That’s right.”
“Rena mentioned you might be joining us tonight. I’m glad you could make it.” Nineties music played. He recognized some of the old songs.
He let his gaze move around the room, taking in the selection of available females. Blondes, redheads, tall, short, buxom, slender, skin tones of every color. Some wore short nightgowns, others wore push-up bras and thong panties.
No thirteen-year-old who looked like the photo he’d received of Callie Spencer. He wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.
“Looks like you’ve got something for everyone,” he said.
One of Veronica’s dark eyebrows arched up. “Two-hundred-dollar cover. The rest you can negotiate with the girl of your choice.”
