Positively Criminal (3 page)

“Nuh-huh. As I recall, you saw plenty of action.”

“What are you talking about?”

“By the time Bri finished with you, you were strung so tight we took bets to see if you could even halfway walk out of the place.”

“I hope you lost.” He lowered his hands to the desk and pushed back his chair to stand. “How long do you suppose the feds were watching before we were informed?”

His partner shrugged. “Depends on what they found and when they tell us, I guess.”

“Well, then.” He checked his watch and gestured to the door with his head. “No time like the present.”

As he and Mace headed the short distance to the department’s main conference room, Jake tossed suspicion through his brain. What business could Bri possibly have in a gentlemen’s club? Common sense told him she wouldn’t risk her professional reputation by
supplementing her income
. A community as small as Primrose could be extremely unforgiving – news traveled at the speed of light – and no way could she disguise herself enough to keep her act a secret. Yet, she insisted on spending time there. His right fist clenched in frustration. He needed answers. Now.

Not more than a full two minutes later, Jake entered the conference room, careful to keep a steady gait while he practiced great restraint to keep from pulling his weapon on the crowd of agents already assembled.

“Easy, Rawlings,” Mace muttered beside him.

Jake drew a deep, cleansing breath and took an empty chair. No sense pissing off the people who could quite possibly explain why on God’s green earth Bri had been involved in their bust. He nodded at the agents in a silent acknowledgement, hesitating half a second longer on the man at the head of the table. The Agent in Charge sat relaxed with one knee bent to allow an ankle to rest on his opposite knee, as if he couldn’t care less that they dragged several half-naked women to a holding cell in the middle of the night. The grin that shaped his lips made Jake think he knew just a little more than anyone in the room.

The question marks assaulting his brain worsened his anger. How long had the other man been at the
Glove
last night? Had he taken the time to patrol the perimeter before he gave the signal? Just how much investigation had he done at the scene?

The other man tipped his head in a small nod, forcing Jake out of his silent interrogation. “Detective Rawlings.”

“Agent Majors.” Jake returned the acknowledgement only out of courtesy, still irritated as hell by the fact the bust had been a surprise. And that Bri was involved.

He moved his gaze from Majors and focused on the white board beside the table, covered with scribbles he assumed to be facts of the case.

“Gentlemen.” Agent Majors stood and stepped next to the board. “I’m not happy to report that last night’s bust did not yield much useful evidence.”

Although relieved, Jake couldn’t let his suspicion slide. “Since you neglected to notify Detective Turner and me, could you explain what it was exactly you did find?”

“Nothing useful.”

“You told us you were looking for evidence of a drug ring. I don’t buy it.”

“Although we did search the place, there were no drugs. In fact, we don’t know much more than we did to begin with.”

“So I’m assuming you now need our assistance.”

“We’d like you to place a local informant.”

“You have someone in mind?”

“No, I’ll leave that decision to you.”

“How many girls were questioned last night?”

“All but three.”

“Why not every single one?”

“Because they’re missing.”

Jake frowned. “Missing, like absent for a shift?”

“No, vanished. No one has seen them for the last month.”

“Sonuvabitch,” he muttered under his breath.

“That’s where we come in,” Majors continued. “We have good reason to believe the
Velvet Glove
is a hub for human trafficking.”

Jake sat morbidly still while his blood reached a full, rolling boil. “Did you bother to mention these disappearances to any of the other girls?”

“Just in questioning. Most of them share the same sentiment that girls in this particular line of work tend to be flighty. Normally they work long enough to earn quick cash and then move on.”

Majors’ shortened job description hit a nerve. “Have you ever really gotten to know any of those girls, Agent?”

“Hell,” Mace mumbled.

“Only as suspects. Do you have further information you’d like to share?”

“I agree with you that some are flighty but most work as dancers for legitimate money. An experienced dancer earns incredible cash at the
Glove
.”

“Cash spent on ...?”

“Education, children – even ailing parents. The
Velvet Glove
is a classy place with elite clientele. The income potential is more than you and I see in a year.”

“Obviously you have intimate knowledge.”

“No.” Jake winced to cover his emotional blunder. “That would be Detective Turner.”

Majors chuckled, apparently not disturbed by his rant.

Mace was quick to redirect the conversation back to the case. “What makes you believe these women are missing?”

“We only have evidence one is actually missing.” The agent handed Jake a photo. “Melissa Winston. She’s the niece of Sheriff Joe King.”

Jake scanned the woman’s features. Although strikingly beautiful with long blonde hair and baby blue eyes, she presented a picture of innocence rather than one of experience. Yet, the longer he spent staring into her photographed eyes, he couldn’t stop the sinking feeling that in person, those eyes might quite possibly broadcast a lot more information than he needed.

He moved his gaze back to Majors. “How long?”

“Forty-two days.” Majors tapped the white board. “We believe the trafficking operates from within. The establishment is owned by Stephan Lombardy who owns a string of gentlemen’s clubs across the country.”

“Are there girls missing from those clubs?”

“We’re looking into it. Lombardy’s establishments are clean – he keeps a tight hold on his staff. Security is impeccable and difficult to infiltrate. That’s why we need someone on the inside. Someone who knows the business and won’t draw unwanted attention.”

“I’m assuming you mean a female.”

The agent grinned. “Yes.”

“Don’t you have an undercover field agent?”

“Won’t work. This woman needs to be local – someone who appears harmless, the girl next door.”

Suspicion suddenly stabbed his gut – right through the middle, then twisted from side to side. Had Majors seen Bri dance?
No. No. Hell no
.

“Can’t think of anyone who fits that mold. I’ll have to do some investigation.”

“I’d like to put her in place as soon as possible.”

Mace cleared his throat. “We’ll get on it as soon as we’re done here.”

“We’re finished.” Majors released a hard breath and stuck out a hand. “Our investigation is pretty much stalled for now. I could really use your help.”

Jake somehow managed to distract his anger enough to appreciate Majors’ desire to solve his case and put a stop to a violent crime against womankind.

He gave the other man’s hand a shake. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks, Detectives.” Majors offered Mace the same gesture. “Our next briefing is scheduled Thursday evening. We’ll contact you with the time and location.”

Jake followed Mace out of the room and counted every heavy footstep back to his office. Once inside, Mace shut the door and straddled his earlier chair. “He wants Bri.”

“You got that too?” Jake sat behind his desk, planted his elbows on the surface and steepled his fingers. “Too damn bad.”

“Did he see her last night?”

“I have no idea, but he wasn’t there by the time I made an appearance.”

“She is familiar.”

The fine, fraying string of Jake’s control finally snapped. “Are you crazy, Turner? You agree with using her as bait?”

The other detective’s eyes widened. “No! Bri’s like the sister I never had. I’m just trying to make comparisons.”

“Compare someone else.”

“Okay, what about this? Ask Bri to find someone.”

“Oh, that would work,” he drawled. “You know what’s gonna happen the exact minute I even mention this whole mess to her.”

“She’s a psychiatrist, the perfect example of reasonable.”

“Uh-huh, sure. You know as well as I do that as soon as she catches even the slightest hint a woman is in trouble,
reasonable
takes a flying leap out the window. She won’t stop until she finds each and every woman safe and sound.”

“I think you’re afraid Mabel will kick your ass.”

“This has nothing to do with Mabel.”

He ran a hand down the side of his face. He couldn’t keep Bri in the dark for long, not when she happened to be right smack dab in the middle of a whole helluva lot more danger than he’d first thought.

Why did she insist on dancing? She and Liberty Prescott ran a respectable practice, not to mention both women worked extremely long hours. Granted, Bri wasn’t quite as visual as Liberty – her work with battered women dictated she fade into the background. No one would ever expect to find her at the
Velvet Glove
. Still, he was serious when he issued his earlier ultimatum.

“Think harder, Turner.”

“Were any other girls charged last night?”

“Not to my knowledge. It would be my best guess the whole purpose of last night’s raid was fact-finding.”

“I find it hard to believe Jimmy has anything to do with this.”

“Agreed. But remember, he just runs the place. Lombardy calls all the shots. What about the security team?”

“I’ll check them out. You think Bri might be able and willing to provide some info?”

“Maybe.”

Mace stood. “Just watch yourself. She won’t give you anything if you threaten her with handcuffs.”

He couldn’t stop his grin. Mace had absolutely no idea just how persuasive he could be with handcuffs.

***

Bri sat straight up, fighting tangled sheets and trying to force her hazy brain to process what had awakened her. Half coherent and now extremely annoyed, she glared at the alarm clock on the table a few inches away a full three seconds, almost daring it to speak, before she realized it sat silent.

Still curious, she moved her gaze to the alarm system panel next to the door, even more irritated when she squinted to read
armed
. She released a heavy breath, surprised by the fact that she’d actually slept – normally, sleeping at the clinic meant a thousand interruptions. Almost tempted to leave the warmth of her cocoon to investigate, exhaustion changed her mind and forced her back under the quilt.

Her eyelashes had just barely touched the tops of her cheekbones when an obnoxious noise spurred her back into action. Groaning out loud, she tossed back the blanket, determined to find the source until she felt something tickle her thigh. She reached down and grasped her cell phone while it vibrated and chirped its usual heavy metal tone.

She cleared her throat in an attempt to sound civil. “This is Dr. Miller.”

“Bri! Oh my God! I’ve tried to reach you all night!”

Bri swallowed hard at the panic in her friend’s voice. “I’m sorry, Dara, I was tied up.”

“Tied up?”

“Handcuffed, actually.”

The sudden silence told her that Dara’s panic had subsided. Now the other woman was either angry or curious, and she voted for angry.

“Um, Bri, I don’t mean to pry but you said you don’t work the private rooms.”

“I don’t.” She released a heavy sigh, not surprised that curiosity won. “I spent most of the night in jail.”

“What on Earth happened?”

“There was a raid at the club.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t ask,” she grumbled.

“I know you weren’t dealing drugs. Were you naked?”

“No.”

“Stoned?”

“No.”

“Drunk?”

“No.”

“This makes no sense. Who arrested you?”

“Jake Rawlings.”

A several second pause told Bri that her friend had solved the mystery.

“Now it makes perfect sense. Wait, did he see you dance?”

“No, I didn’t dance last night. In fact, the FBI was already cleaning out the place when he took me prisoner.”

“And you secretly love it, huh?”

Dara’s accusation made her giggle. Leave it to her psychologist-turned-romance-novelist friend to throw that thought right out there. “Are you using me to plot your next novel?”

“Maybe. Would you rather I analyze your reaction?”

“Please don’t.”

“So, I’m sure Jake asked why he found you at the
Velvet Glove
.”