The Second Betrayal (17 page)

reception, I needed this type of bug somewhere that wasn't on, under, or behind a lot of metal. The office chair on the opposite side of the desk would have to do. The back was hard plastic, the seat cushions fake leather.

I pressed the sticky side of the bug near one arm of the chair, hoping it wouldn't be noticed. The fact the bug was black like the chair would help. I pushed down and heard a soft click that told me the bug had engaged and would now show up on the surveillance team's grid.

Planting the bug had taken about twenty precious seconds. The cell phone showed that all I had was five minutes to

find Jenika before it might be noticed I was missing. God, I hoped she was still alive.

I tucked the cell phone away as hurried out of the office. From under room 2D's door I saw a sliver of light. Someone might be there. I pressed my ear to the door but heard nothing. The doorknob refused to budge, and I had to use the lock pick again. The door squeaked as I opened it, and I winced. I stayed as far back away from the entrance as I

could, just in case. I leaned in when I didn't hear anything.

My heart thumped hard. A powerful heat lamp that glowed red in the center of the well-lit room made sweat start

dripping down my face.

But it was the folding chair in front of the heat lamp that caused my body to go cold despite the heat. Blood spotted the empty metal chair, a pair of handcuffs dangling from one side. Shredded flimsy clothing lay around the chair's legs.

Large chunks of hair had been dropped onto the floor.

Hair the same pale blond as Jenika's.

My heart dropped to my stomach.

"No, no, no." I ground my teeth as I stared at the mounds of what had once been long beautiful blond hair on a lovely young woman. "Not dead. Jenika
isn't
dead." I stomped my bare foot. *'I will not accept that."

I reached into my bra for my cell phone again and checked the display. Three minutes. I raised the phone and used it to shoot several photos of the place Jenika may have been tortured.

After I tucked away the phone, I flipped up the hem of my dress and used a tool from my lock-pick set to remove a

couple of stitches. Just enough to make a small pocket to tuck away several strands of the blond hair. That would be enough to test for her DNA.

I glanced around the mostly empty room, and my gaze landed on a steel table. And a wineglass on top of it. I hurried toward it and leaned close enough to see that it was covered with clear prints from whichever bastard had probably

hurt Jenika. I couldn't exactly tuck the wineglass in my bra...

Tape.

I checked the hallway before I darted down to 2F, the first door I'd opened. I barely avoided tripping over a bag of packing peanuts before I reached the clear package tape.

Shit. One minute according to my cell phone. Stalder had probably already noticed I'd been gone awhile. Kerrison was a good enough liar—and flirt— to hold him off a little longer.

The hallway was still clear and I bolted into the room with the locks of what I was sure was Jenika's hair and ran for the wineglass. I tore two strips of the sticky clear packing tape and tagged them on the edge of the metal table. I took the wineglass by its stem and hoped I'd manage to do this right.

I took the first piece of tape and pressed it smoothly against the glass before removing it as slowly as I could. Three clean prints came away with it. Then I stuck that piece of tape to the nonsticky backside of the second piece. My hands trembled from adrenaline as I shoved up my skirt and pressed the sticky side of the second piece of tape to my bare upper thigh. The heat lamp was so hot, the hair beneath my wig was growing sweaty, and I began to feel like I was

getting a sunburn.

Cell phone. Minus two minutes. Damn.

I peeked out of the doorway, then closed the door behind me when! saw the empty hallway. I listened for sounds of

voices or footsteps but heard nothing until I reached the rope.

The hard
thump
of heavy boots banged against the stairs, causing the metal to ring, as someone walked up from the first floor.

Crap.

I slid on my bare feet straight for one of the support beams that helped brace the staircase and hoped I could do a good-enough job of hiding behind it. There are plenty of perks to being petite, including hiding behind things some people can't.

My lungs started to hurt as I held my breath. I let air out in a slow exhale, as quietly as I could! Then I heard the
tap-tap
of a woman's high heels. The sound was irregular, like the woman was stumbling.

"Come on, baby." The man's voice was surprisingly high-pitched considering the amount of noise his boots made on the staircase. Can't judge a man by his boots. "I'm going to fuck you twelve ways to dawn."

The girl whimpered and I clenched my jaws.

I leaned my head back against the support beam. Thank God it was a client and not a handler. At least the handlers

didn't follow the girls upstairs with the clients.

A tall wiry man, who sported a goatee and wore a cowboy hat and boots, passed by. He gripped Jewell— Dasha's

upper arm tight enough that his fingers made white prints against her already pale flesh.

For a brief second her tear-filled eyes met mine, and her silent plea nearly, tore out my heart.

I tried to show in my eyes that I wanted to help her. That I would help her.

But the disbelief in her gaze was obvious before she turned her head away.

Killer ants eating flesh from the bodies of the traffickers, while the men were still alive, sounded better and better all the time.

When they had passed, I slipped under the rope and hurried down the stairs to the first floor. I barely skidded to a stop halfway between the bathroom and the landing when I remembered my stilettos. I ran back, slipped my feet into the

pair, then walked as quietly as I could to the bathroom door and pushed it open.

It squeaked so loud I flinched, and I was met by a wave of lilac air freshener that mixed with the pine cleaner used to mop the floors earlier. I followed my instincts and checked my reflection in the mirror. Thank God I did. One strand of my dark hair had escaped from beneath the wig, and I adjusted it before I checked the cell phone.

Damn, damn, damn. Eighteen minutes. This would call for some serious acting on my part. But before I went

anywhere I needed to let my team know about Jenika. The cell phone was powerful despite its tiny size. I sent

Takamoto a quick text message in a shorthand code and explained everything I'd done, including snagging the

fingerprint. I forwarded the photos I'd taken with the phone camera.

After I tucked away the cell phone, I took a tissue off the marble counter and rubbed the heavy blush off my cheeks, hoping to make myself look paler.

My face glistened from sweat thanks to that heat lamp in the room upstairs, which helped me look fairly bad. I started to wipe off the mascara that had smeared beneath my eyes thanks to the sweat.

Instead of wiping off the black smudges, I took my index finger and rubbed the black just enough to make me look

like I had dark circles under my eyes.

Ha.

The sticky tape pulled against the skin of my thigh and I hoped I'd managed to secure the lock of blond hair well

enough that it wouldn't fall out of my hem. My eyes were dry from the heat lamp, and they watered after I held them open as long as possible before blinking.

I clutched one hand tight to my belly as I grasped the door handle with the other. I caught my breath when I almost ran into Stalder. He was standing on the other side of the door, his arms folded across his chest.

"Ms. Chandra says you are ill," he said in a way that made it clear he hadn't believed Kerrison's story. "What have you been doing for the last twenty minutes, Madame Alexis?"

I blinked away the moisture in my eyes I'd managed to manufacture a minute ago, then held both of my arms across

my abdomen and winced as credibly as I could. I followed all of that by a very convincing groan.

"I am sick. I cannot seem to stop vomiting." I wiped my fingers around my mouth while still clutching my belly with my other arm. I spoke in Swedish then English as if slightly out of it. "1 ate from the bar menu. Nachos. I think they did not agree with me."

Stalder's expression remained in his usual ice-mask as he stepped out of my way. "Get back to work."

"That is what I intend to do." I raised my chin. Figured I needed to stay in character despite the fact I was supposed to be ill.

Brilliance prevailed. I clapped my hand over my mouth and bolted back to the bathroom door. I shoved it open with

my free hand and ran for a stall, where I shut the door behind me before making retching sounds loud enough for the jerk to hear.

"Return to work," Stalder said from the doorway.

Bastard.

The door thumped shut behind him, and I took a deep breath. Mission accomplished.

Except Jenika was gone.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

White sand beaches and cabana boys

At four am Kerrison and I stumbled into our Brooklyn apartment from our first afternoon
and
night
and
morning at the Elite.

We were friggin' freezing since we'd forgotten our coats. Thank God for the car's heater and that the central heat was on in the apartment. My fingers and toes started tingling immediately as they began to thaw out.

I didn't know if I was going to collapse from sheer exhaustion or starvation, or if I'd explode from unadulterated fury before going on a killing spree at the Elite.

"All of the above," I grumbled as I flung my stilettos across the room, barely missing a vase on an end table with one while the other stiletto thumped the wall beneath one window. The rental deposit should cover the dent the heel made in the wall.

My feet screamed from being wedged into those damned stilettos for so long. My toes had already started to swell

after I jerked the heels off in the car. When I'd removed them, I'd contemplated going back to the Elite and using them to commit murder—those nice, pointy heels made perfect weapons.

"All of what above?" Kerrison seemed to process that I'd spoken aloud as she closed her eyes.

"Collapse, eat, explode, homicide." I jerked off my wig and tossed it onto the coffee table before massaging my scalp with my fingers. "And not necessarily in that order."

Kerrison sprawled on the love seat, her long hair looking like tangled red yarn on the leather. Her makeup was

smudged, and she had dark circles beneath her eyes. Her beaded fringed brown skirt was hiked all the way up to her

waist, showing pink panties. "If you're talking about going back to kill every man in that place, can we at least get an hour's sleep?"

I plopped into a padded chair. "I'll take a minute to think about it and get back to you."

"Food."
Kerrison sat bolt upright on the love seat.

At the same time I caught the delicious smells and said,
"Breakfast"

We both cut our gazes to the entrance of the kitchen, then looked at each other. Not even a second passed before we jumped to our feet and headed for the kitchen.

Donovan stepped into our path, and he was lucky we didn't run him down. He carried an oval serving platter filled

with a breakfast that smelled so good I knew I'd orgasm from eating just one sausage link. If I wasn't so tired.

"Oh, God." Kerrison looked like she was going to faint when she closed her eyes and took a deep inhale of the delicious smells.

A mountain of buttermilk pancakes, a pile of crisp bacon, lots of sausage links, and a mound of scrambled eggs were on the platter. He carried a pitcher of maple syrup in the hand that wasn't carrying the platter.

"Get to the table, Agents Steele and Kerrison." Donovan hadn't shaven, and his two-day stubble made him look good enough to eat. too. He wore a gray T-shirt and Levi's, and his feet were bare. I might have cared about how

completely sexy he looked if the breakfast he'd fixed hadn't been calling to me. "Your next two assignments are eating then bed," he added in a firm tone.

"Uh-huh." Kerrison followed him and dropped into the closest chair at the dining table. "Whatever you say, boss."

The table was already set with three china plates, three place settings of silverware, three crystal glasses, a crystal pitcher brimming with milk, along with a porcelain napkin holder in the middle of the table.

Kerrison didn't hold back when Donovan set the plate down. She'd speared two pancakes, two sausage links, and

scooped up a bunch of scrambled eggs before I'd had a chance to pick up my fork.

"Jeez, save some for the rest of us, Kerrison." I gave her a mock-frown that she ignored as she snatched the small pitcher of maple syrup from Donovan and drowned her pancakes and sausages.

Donovan wore an amused expression as I filled my plate almost as fast as Kerrison had. He loaded his own plate with what was left of the breakfast. Fortunately for him, he'd cooked enough to land healthy servings of his own.

While we shoveled food into our faces, we gave him the highlights and the lowlights of the evening, including that

we'd learned Jenika was missing and what we thought happened to her. My stomach soured and I found myself not

quite as hungry any longer. I told them about the evidence I had stuck to my thigh and in the hem of my dress, as well as the pics I'd forwarded to Takamoto. I'd been so exhausted on the way back that I'd forgotten to tell Kerrison.

When we finished eating, Kerrison slumped in her seat, leaned her head back against the high-backed chair, and

placed her hands on her abdomen. "If I wasn't already taken, Donovan," she started with a satisfied sigh as she raised her head and looked at him. Exhaustion yet humor was in her eyes as she continued, "And if you weren't one of my bosses—not to mention if you were my type—I'd tell you 1 love you."

Not her type? I almost laughed. How could Donovan not be every woman's dream man?