Hiding From Danger (Danger Incorporated Book 2) (21 page)

S
tanding in the
bathroom of his hotel room West taped the wires to Travis’s chest, wincing at the thought of pulling all of it off later tonight. Travis had shaved his chest so that was in his favor, but it was still going to hurt like a son of a bitch.

“You don’t have to do this. We can wait for Agent Faulkner to get what we need and then arrest Morton. I talked to him right before you arrived and he’s working on it. He’s trying to get an arrest warrant. He has someone on the inside but he didn’t say who.”

Even as he said it West knew they couldn’t hang around like sitting ducks waiting for Alan Morton to come get them. It was far better to be on the offensive in a situation like this. While dangerous, it was even more treacherous to sit tight and hope that nothing happened.

That was a losing proposition. Morton wanted Gigi and would do anything to get her. The fact that they’d been in Chicago less than a day and he hadn’t tried anything yet worried West. The diversion of Wyatt and Shiloh wouldn’t throw Morton off their scent permanently. The most they could hope for was a few hours of peace and that time had ticked away.

Travis nodded toward the door where Gigi and Zach sat on the other side relaxing after dinner. They’d ordered room service and tried to pretend that nothing special was happening tonight.

“Can she wait that long? She wants to see her sister and I don’t blame her. Let’s not make tonight into a bigger deal than it really is. I’m going in and see if I can talk to him. That’s it. Maybe he’ll say something and maybe he won’t.”

He was downplaying the very real danger of doing anything within Morton’s sphere. From what Gigi had told them he had an army of paid flunkies to do the dirty work.

“I should be doing this,” West muttered, frustration making his neck and shoulders tight. “This isn’t your battle to fight.”

Travis buttoned up his shirt and tucked it into his dark slacks. “You can’t. We have to assume he knows who you are and has some sort of intel, even if it’s only a picture and a short bio. No, it’s better if I go. I doubt he knows or cares about me.”

Travis was right but it didn’t make this any easier.

“The rich gambler. That’s your play tonight?”

A grin spreading across his face, Travis retrieved a blue silk tie from his suitcase. “The richest. I’ll toss around hundreds like they’re dollar bills and lose some money playing blackjack or poker. Maybe roulette. The idea is to get Morton’s attention and then befriend him. I want to get him talking. Maybe I’ll tell him I’m in the market for some female companionship tonight.”

The idea of an Anderson man ever paying for sex was ludicrous but hopefully Travis wouldn’t have too many lovely ladies hanging on his arm this evening. West’s brother had no problem finding plenty of willing women wherever he went.

“What would your current girlfriend say about that?” West teased. “I’d hate for this little mission to endanger any relationship you might have going.”

Sitting on the bed, Travis strapped a gun around his ankle before pulling on his boot. “Adele and I parted ways a few weeks ago.”

Adele had been an icy Nordic blonde that stood six feet tall in her stocking feet. Beautiful but aloof, she’d made a poor impression on West when they’d been introduced. Clearly she didn’t like sharing Travis either with friends or family and hadn’t bothered to hide that little factoid. In other words, she’d been a bitch the entire evening.

“What did you do this time?”

Travis grimaced and leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees. “She didn’t like all the hours that I spend at work. Between my regular work schedule and the mayoral race I apparently took advantage of her good nature. She called me a selfish rat bastard when she walked out.”

“How’s that broken heart?”

“I may never recover.” Travis smirked and then stood, straightening his tie. “I wish her well but she’s definitely not someone I could take home to Mom and Dad.”

“Was that the plan? Are you looking to settle down, big brother? You are on the wrong side of forty.”

Despite being the oldest, Travis was the most adamant about avoiding commitment at all costs. The people of Tremont called West a womanizer but that was only because they didn’t have any idea what Travis was up to when he was jetting around the world. He was ass deep in swooning females.

“Not in the foreseeable future. Maybe someday. Honestly, there are simply too many beautiful women in this world to pick just one. I’m happy for you and Jason though.”

Typical Travis.

“Maybe you need to change up the type of women you date.”

Another smirk. “Why in the hell would I do that?”

“Anyone can see that you are a deeply unhappy man.” West couldn’t even say the words with a straight face, his shoulders shaking with laughter. “Morose. Depressed, even.”

“I’ll try to put on a happy face for the evening ahead. Are we ready?”

West nodded, slipping his jacket over his shoulder holster. Zach would stay here with Gigi while West accompanied Travis to Morton’s club. He’d stay in the car listening to the recording and monitoring for trouble.

“Let me say goodbye to Gigi and we’ll get out of here.”

That all too familiar rush of adrenaline was coursing through West’s veins. It felt good to have a plan of action. Hell, it felt good to be doing something instead of being in wait mode. He was damn tired of reacting to whatever Morton threw at them. It was time to put that bastard on the defensive.

*     *     *

“I’ve called three
times today. I don’t like having to chase you down, Morton.”

Alan held the phone away from his ear, not because his boss Caleb Deardon was speaking too loudly but because the tone was soft and dangerous. Deardon had shown himself to be someone to be reckoned with when he was pissed off. Several people had simply disappeared never to be heard from again when they crossed the man who had clawed his way up through the organization in record time. Alan didn’t want to join the ranks of the missing but there were things that needed his attention today.

Georgette and her phalanx of devoted bodyguards was at the top of that list. It hadn’t taken him long to realize they’d fooled his men in Vegas and flown to Chicago. It had taken even less time to find her hotel despite her companion paying with cash. A few calls to the cab companies plus a bribe or two and he’d found out all he needed to know. She was now in Chicago and he was getting impatient. Dammit, he’d waited two years for this.

Alan pressed the speaker button on the phone and set it down on the dark oak desk that was the centerpiece of his home office. Decorated in subdued earth tones by Georgette before she left, it was his favorite room in the house.

“I didn’t get the messages until a few minutes ago, Caleb. I’ve been taking care of a few things today.”

Alan kept his voice even, not letting his nerves get the best of him when speaking to Deardon even as a trickle of sweat ran down his temple. Caleb Deardon was one cold son of a bitch who would have sold his mother into prostitution if it made him a buck.

“And by
things
do you mean that woman?”

Stiffening in his chair, Alan didn’t answer right away. Deardon had been in the organization when Georgette was in Chicago before but he hadn’t then been in charge. The fact that he knew about Alan’s personal life illustrated the reach and power he had.

Alan didn’t like it at all.

If he knew about Georgette what else did he know? And who in Alan’s organization was talking?

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

Maybe Deardon was just fishing for information.

“I’m talking about Georgette Sidney. Is this going to be a problem, Morton? We don’t need you doing anything that gets the attention of the police. Do you understand?”

Deardon knew her name. Not good.

“Of course, Caleb. I’d never do anything to jeopardize what we have going on. Georgette is back in Chicago and I’m sure I’ll be seeing her soon, that’s all.”

“Willingly or unwillingly? I mean it. Don’t do something stupid over a female. Jesus, they’re a dime a dozen, Morton. If you want a woman I’ll send one over. Name the height, weight, and hair color. She’ll give you a night you’ll never forget. But leave the ones that don’t want you alone. It isn’t worth the trouble.”

There was no one like Georgette. That’s why Alan had to have her back. No one else would do.

He wasn’t going to fucking explain himself to Deardon. This could all be handled quietly with a minimum of fuss. She would come to Alan of her own free will. He’d made sure of that.

“You’re worried over nothing. It’s all going to be fine. I promise.”

“It better fucking be fine because if you do anything that makes the cops start looking at us I’ll make life very difficult for you. Mark my words. I’m coming by the club tonight to talk more about this so be there. No excuses.”

Screw you, Deardon.

“I hear you and it will all be fine. You can rest assured.”

The line was dead. Deardon had hung up, a fact Alan was most grateful for. Verbal sparring with Deardon over Georgette wouldn’t end well. The man didn’t understand. No one did, really. She belonged to Alan, and in the next twenty-four hours she’d be back where she belonged.

‡

“E
njoy yourself, Mr.
Armstrong. I think you’ll find we offer any sort of entertainment you might require.”

The nightclub’s manager gave a small nod and turned on his heel to stride away, leaving Travis alone just inside the entrance to the secret illegal gambling room in Morton’s nightclub. It had been almost too easy for him to gain access. At first he’d stayed in the nightclub area flashing large amounts of cash and tipping wildly. Cozying up to a cute cocktail waitress, he’d brought up the subject of gambling on the premises and she’d hooked him up with the manager. After generously oiling that palm he’d been escorted upstairs. Clearly Morton’s men were motivated by cash which was a fortunate thing.

Travis’s back and neck were still damp with sweat, his heart still beating too fast from waiting to gain access to the VIP room as it was called. If the manager guy hadn’t bought into his cover bad things could have happened. West had warned Travis about undercover cops beaten up and even shot if the suspect didn’t completely believe in the persona. It had been a relief when the sound of slot machines and roulette wheels had been heard through the closed door.

“I’m in,” he said quietly. There was no two-way communication between himself and West. His brother could hear what was going on and that was it. Currently West sat in a rental car across the street listening in case there was any trouble. Travis had assured his brother that he could handle himself so intervention would be unnecessary, but West’s adage when it came to surveillance work had always been better safe than sorry.

“What can I get you, sir?”

A busty blonde waitress in a tight dress smiled invitingly at Travis.

“Jameson on the rocks.”

She leaned forward slightly, giving him a much better view of her double D’s.

“Anything else?”

Her tone was complete seduction and not a bit coy. It was all out there in the open. She was ready to play with a man who had a big…bank account.

“Just the drink, thank you.”

Normally Travis might not mind some company but this evening wasn’t about pleasure. This was work and getting Morton out of Gigi’s life. After everything that girl had been through she deserved some happiness. From the way she and West were looking at each other it appeared they’d found it together.

Travis was happy for his brother but that didn’t mean he wanted to find a woman and settle down himself. That was the problem with happy couples. They wanted everyone to be happy and to them that meant in a relationship. Travis was pretty damn estatic being single. He was never alone unless he wanted to be.

The waitress brought him the drink and he murmured his thanks while sliding a twenty into a small pocket on her dress. She gave him a dazzling smile and leaned forward, her strong perfume cloying in the enclosed space.

“Let me know if you need anything else. My name is Lisa.”