Deep Into The Night (Hartz Island Series) (14 page)

Involved. Ah, man if he wasn’t careful, he would be very involved. A lunch hour of de-stressing. Jack smiled thinking about her and what it all could entail. There was no hesitation on her part for kissing him back. He had wanted to kiss her a time or two but had been saved. Kissing her on the cheek at her parent’s funeral didn’t count. The time before that had been Mike’s wedding where they both had had too much to drink. She had taunted him, and right when he pulled her into his arms to kiss the sass right out of her, Marliss yanked him away to go dance with the Maid of Honor. Cassie was pissed.

Princess Sassy Face, you have one sweet mouth
. He could only imagine the rest.

Chapter Twenty

C
assie activated the no-contract cell phone, called Jack, and left a message. Next, she Internet searched the places she needed to go. With numerous sheets of paper tucked into her huge purse, Cassie was ready to tackle Seattle. She might have been raised in Bellevue, but her grandmother had lived by the Woodland Park Zoo, and the two of them often took the bus. Jack’s condo was located just a couple of blocks from the bus route on lower Queen Anne Hill, which made for easy access to downtown.

After calling Planned Parenthood to find out where she could get tested for sexually transmitted diseases, Cassie settled on a lab that had twenty-four hour turn-around information, requiring no doctor, claiming fifteen minute in and out service. No telling how many women Sergei screwed along with her and for how long.

Her first stop was the bank where her debit card and checks were waiting to be picked up. Second was a designer hair academy. Her days of walking into a high-end salon were long gone. The stylists coming out of the academy were snatched up by the high end salons, so it was the same in her mind. While she waited for her turn, Cassie flipped through various hair magazines, looking for a new look. The women of Hollywood were featured. Maybe she should just copy one of them.

“Excuse me, I’m Amber, would you like to follow me?”

Cassie sat at Amber’s station trying to explain what she thought her new style should look like, but Amber kept lifting her hair and examining it. Amber excused herself and came back with a man, who did the same thing.

Finally, he said, “Honey, you could have been in hair commercials with this hair. Your hair is perfect for Locks of Love. If you’d like to donate, we are offering fifty percent off your salon services for being so generous.”

Obviously, he did not purchase any Irish Mist products because he would have recognized her hair. “Sure. What do I have to do?” A discount was always good.

“Just a teensy-weensy bit shorter than you asked.”

“Oh…how weensy?”

He lifted up her thick mass of hair and held up the ends between her chin and shoulders. Her hair had never been that short. Her brows drew together in an agonized expression, and she bit her lip trying to decide.

“Will you be around to help Amber?”

“Yes, and Amber is excellent.”

“Okay,” she croaked.

Amber prepped Cassie’s hair for Locks of Love and when she was ready with the shears, Cassie covered her eyes and winced with each clip sound. When Amber finished, she spun Cassie around to view her new look. Gone was her trademark hair. Parted on the side, the bangs wisped down to frame her face, emphasizing her eyes and cheekbones, just touching her shoulders.

“Goodbye,” she whispered and shook her hair just like she did in her commercials, but this felt different—light and free. “I love it.”

Amber smiled.

With her new do and buoyant mood, Cassie trekked over to the Westlake Transportation Center where she decided catch the light rail system to Chinatown where she would transfer to the Metro Bus to South Jackson Street. Mapping the lab address showed it east of the International District by quite a few blocks, in an area she wasn’t familiar with, but the bus stopped within a block of the lab.

Cassie was impressed how fast the underground light rail got her to the Chinatown stop. The light rail was well used, and the station was filled with a variety of people. She followed the signs to street side and located the metro stop on South Jackson Street. Over the years, Seattle’s Asian population had grown and diversified and it was evident with the people waiting for the bus, the signs, and stores.

The bus came along, and Cassie was the last to board. The driver, who appeared Samoan and could have played defense in football asked, “Where are you getting off?” He looked her up and down.

“Between 17th Street and 18th.”

“The lab?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll stop right across from it. You go straight in.” He handed her a schedule and motioned for her to sit near the front.

By now, it was very obvious the lab was in the heart of a diverse section of Seattle. Just like he promised, the bus stopped directly across from the lab.

No one was waiting when Cassie entered. She filled out the paperwork and handed it to the woman behind the counter. Just like their ad promised, in and out within fifteen minutes.

Cassie stood on South Jackson under the bus sign. According to the schedule, the next bus wouldn’t arrive for thirty minutes. She decided to duck into the café next to the lab. Something smelled good and her stomach grumbled. Looking through the window, it appeared to have a take-out section along with tables.

Loud, screeching brakes caught her attention, and she turned to look behind her. A white passenger van stopped in the bus lane and parked, leaving its lights blinking. The driver hopped out, slammed the door, and stormed to the café, nearly knocking into her. He scowled at her and said something that she didn’t understand. She sucked in her breath and quickly stepped away, thinking if that wasn’t the man on the ferry, it had to be his twin. From inside the café, she heard loud yelling that sounded Vietnamese or Cambodian, but she wasn’t sure. This was not the place to stick around so she ran back to the lab and peeked out the door.

The passenger van had Asian script on the side with tinted windows. From the length of it, she guessed it held several passengers. If she could get the license plate for Jack, then he could trace the van. After what seemed like an eternity, the man returned to the van, pulled out fast, made a U-turn, and headed up Jackson Street. Three numbers stood out, the rest she didn’t see. She wrote the numbers down, tried to mimic the script, and then pulled out her cellphone to call Jack.

“Cass?”

The words poured out so fast and her thoughts were a jumble, she barely made sense.

“Slow down. Where are you?”

“I’m on South Jackson Street.”

“Where?”

“South Jackson Street.”

“What the hell are you doing there?”

“I can’t talk about that part. The point is—”

“Cassie, where are you on South Jackson. Where?”

“Okay, if you must know I’m between 17th Street and 18th.”

“What the fu… Listen to me. You are two blocks from two different gangs in that area. Get out of there…now.”

“I will when the bus comes.”

“Ah, Christ.”

“Jack, I’m fine. What I’m trying to tell you is I think I found the van. The van we were looking for from the ferry. I only saw some of the numbers, but I think it was the guy, but if not, he was so close it could have been a brother. They both had the same small tattoo on their neck.”

“I don’t even want to ask how you got that close.”

“Here comes the bus. Bye.”

Before she heard his reply, she ended the call and stuffed the phone in her pocket, then sprinted to the stop. The same driver pulled up. She hopped on, and he motioned for her to sit up front.

“Where are you getting off?” he asked.

“Chinatown.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“The light rail.”

He nodded and pulled back on to Jackson. She leaned back and felt the tension ease out. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out Jack was steamed. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Once Cassie reached Westlake Plaza, she focused on looking Russian. If they were walking into a hot night club, she needed to wear designer. Jack had been cool about expenses, but she didn’t think he really understood how much it could cost. Thank God she knew how to dress hot on a budget. According to the Internet, a new consignment shop carrying designer labels had opened up recently in Belltown. Jack said he’d be home at seven, which gave her plenty of time. The shop wasn’t that far, so she decided to walk.

Other than her new hair style, Cassie felt like a slob standing in the middle of the store surrounded by expensive clothing. They might have been gently worn, but they were still designer. A woman waved from the end of the store and started toward her. For a brief moment, Cassie wanted to create a storyline of why she was there wearing her current clothes. But that was the old Cassie.

“How can we help you today?”

“I need a dress—” she smiled and pictured Jack—“that will make a man’s eyes pop out, his body come to full attention, but most importantly, melt his heart.” That pretty much described how she wanted Jack to react.

The woman studied her for a moment. “Size six?”

“Yes, and I’m also on a budget.”

“Not a problem.” She pointed to the dressing rooms and started bringing Cassie dresses, and then accessories.

Cassie settled on a tight, V-back, sleeveless dress that ended well above her knees and shimmered. From the looks of it, the dress had never been worn. The shoes were high and the coat, black leather. The only thing missing was jewelry.

When Cassie left the consignment boutique, her left hand held a shopping bag with two pairs of jeans and knee high leather boots. Her other hand toted her Russian assignment minus the coat. She wore it. Dusk had settled in, and the street movement on First Avenue made her nervous. Walking briskly, she headed to catch the bus back to lower Queen Anne Hill.

When Cassie reached Jack’s building, she scanned the lobby, hoping to avoid Misty. Too tired to take the stairs, she prayed the elevator was empty when the doors opened, which it was. If Jack was on time, he would be home in thirty minutes, and Cassie wanted to be ready.

Chapter Twenty-One

T
raffic flowed well heading north into the city on Highway 99. It had been a while since he left work before seven, but he’d promised Cassie. Depending on traffic after he exited the Alaskan Way Viaduct, he could be on time or fifteen minutes late. For him, that was on time.

Had Cassie not caught the bus on South Jackson when she did, Jack wasn’t sure what he would have done. Maybe call a friend at SPD that could swing by and get her. He’d pulled up South Jackson on the computer in the street view mode to get an idea of what took her there and deduced it had to be the lab facility. Cassie was no dummy. He’d probably do the same thing if he were in her shoes. Maybe he ought to get checked out too. It wouldn’t hurt.

When he arrived at work, the facial recognition software running on Armstrong had a couple of hits, though nothing one hundred percent. Out of the three hits, a Michael Robert Armstrong had been taken into custody last year in Malaysia for running brothels and human trafficking. Somebody must have paid someone off because Armstrong was no longer in custody and now wanted. He seemed the most likely out of the three candidates.

His day had been full. Jack’s counterpart out of Canada had called to say they arrested a Chinese national who was illegally bringing in young Korean women for marriage, when in fact it was to work massage parlors in Vancouver, British Columbia, and suburbs. The Canadians tracked the woman’s movements of her girls through the various Internet sites, including USASexGuide.com. They’d found paperwork showing additional ownership to massage parlors around the Seattle area and a strip bar by the Seattle-Tacoma airport. He didn’t think he’d have any problem finding volunteers to check it out.

Right now, he had a crew at Harbor Island checking cargo from Saipan, Northern Marianas Islands, which was a Commonwealth of the United States. Studying the ship’s manifest, one of his agents cross-checked the waybill and thought it was interesting how many bras were being shipped into Seattle, originating from a sweatshop on the island, which allowed them to be labeled Made in USA. Upon inspection of one crate, they discovered most of the bras in it were a 44 DD and padded. The guys were laughing, wondering where the women in Seattle were with those magnificent chests and why would they want padding? The answer: to conceal all those hundreds of ecstasy pills.

At seven fifteen, Jack parked his truck, grabbed his back pack, and headed to the elevator but didn’t get far. Mystical Misty in her BMW cut him off. She rolled down her window and glared.

“Really, Jack. I don’t appreciate being made a fool. You could have told me you were hooked up tight with your southern belle babe. I was under the impression you were available. Come on…Sammi with an i? Get real. I never thought of you as a dumb dickhead, but I guess I was wrong.” At that, she hit the gas and squealed away.

Jack wondered what in the world Cassie had said to her. He would find out soon enough.

When he opened his door, the lights were low, and all was quiet except for soft music. He paused for a moment before stepping all the way in. Half-expecting Cassie to greet him, he was mildly disappointed she didn’t. Sticking with his ritual, Jack stepped in, relocked the door, removed his gun and badge, and set them on the counter. Getting ready to call her, he stopped. His pulse quickened, and his body went on alert. Movement in the shadows by the windows caught his attention. The overhead cam light lit, spotlighting a woman in a low back, tight fitting, hip hugging dress. She tossed her hair and turned slightly, looking over her shoulder at him. At first, it felt like someone had punched his gut, but then the reaction went straight to his balls. The heat of her gaze temporarily paralyzed him; she was in control, and his body reacted. Jack sucked in his breath, watching her next movements. Swaying her hips gently, she turned, facing him, and walked toward him. Within inches of her breasts touching his chest, she stopped and gently tossed her hair again.

“Call me Katerina,” she whispered. Her lips parted and her eyes smoldered. “And you are my Andrei.” She made a turn, looking over her shoulder. “Zo, Andrei, are you ready?” She caught his hand and swooshed up next to him.

Hell yes
, but the words caught in his throat. Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly, trying to get a grip. If he didn’t step away, Jack knew his hand would unzip that dress and the rest would be history.

She pouted. “Andrei, kiss me.”

“Ah, man.”

This time, there was no one to yank him away. Crushing her to him, he kissed her long and hard. Her arms went around his neck, pulling him in tight. Somewhere in all the kissing, his hands ended up cupping her butt. There was no hidden secret where all the blood had gone in his body. Their bodies melted into one.

The ringing of Jack’s cellphone fleetingly stopped the heated exchange. “It’s work,” he muttered. “I’ve got to take this.”

But he didn’t. He moved his mouth over hers, devouring her. His cellphone went off again. Jack tipped his head away, breathing hard into Cassie’s neck.

“This time, I do have to answer.”

She stepped away, panting.

“Yeah, Wyatt…no…just working out, what’s up?”

Cassie headed to the kitchen in search of something to drink. Never before had she felt wobbly after being thoroughly kissed, but she could barely stand, let alone breathe. Cold water had no appeal. She pulled two bottles of beer out of the refrigerator and twisted off their tops. She gulped her beer as if she were parched on a sun-drenched day. The cold felt good on her bruised mouth and hot body. She handed Jack his and their eyes met. He made no attempt to hide his frank bold stare. Heat spread over her body again, and her cheeks burned. She now knew what it was like to be kissed by Jack Wyatt. His gaze dropped from her eyes and looked her up and down. Whoever he was listening to must have asked a question.

“Yeah, I’m still here. Just listening.” Jack turned away and stepped over to the window.

Cassie retreated to the bathroom and applied a cold cloth to her neck and cheeks. Had she caught Jack’s attention? Oh, yes, way more than she had anticipated. Obviously, she hadn’t thought the whole Katerina scene through and what could happen. At the time, it seemed like a good idea, but then it always did. Never did she want to be Jack’s quick screw, a fuck on the floor, so what in the hell had she been thinking? She studied herself in the mirror, reapplying the cold compress.

“Ah, Christ, Cassie, when are you going to learn?” Humiliation engulfed her.

She changed into jeans and one of the tops she bought. When she returned, Jack had finished the call and pocketed his phone. He cleared his throat and studied her. Embarrassed, her face flushed.

“I’m glad you changed. I’m not sure my men could have handled that outfit. I barely could.” He took a swig of beer and let out a deep breath. “Cass, what’s going on?”

“I…I thought we were going to practice.” He didn’t understand. “On being Russian.”

A smile tugged at his mouth.

“I got carried away.” She shrugged and looked down. “It was stupid of me. I’m sorry.”

“Hey.”

She looked up.

“Don’t be. I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself.”

Cassie smiled faintly. He was definitely that.

“Is this part of being Russian?” He brushed the hair off her forehead and ran his fingers through the new length. “I like it.” The huskiness lingered in his voice. “So how did we do?”

She grinned. “We definitely got over the initial awkwardness of touching each other. So the rest should be easy.”

“Let’s get practicing then.” Jack grabbed his jacket and back pack. “We can do that while we grab dinner and head to Harbor Island. Go get your coat.”

Cassie returned with the leather coat she bought and stood in front of Jack. “First lesson is to help me on with my coat. Second, hold the door open for me.”

He raised his brows, questioning her.

“You need to be old-fashioned and feel like you own me. I’m your special possession.”

“I think you’re making this up.” He helped her with her coat and held the door open.

Cassie passed through, and he patted her on her butt. She gasped, surprised.

“Hey, I’m just owning you…Sammi with an i. By the way, what in the world did you say to Misty to make her so mad?”

“Oh, Sugar Bear, you don’t want to know.”

“I was afraid of that.”