Chasing Thunder Page 15

  “How many more people do you have to lose?” he asked her.

  “No one asked you to come along,” she reminded him.

  “That’s true,” he agreed. “But right now I’m asking you to stay. With me.”

  She had paused. He gave her that. But in the end, the answer was still the same. The ring she had sworn her life to was her grandfather’s signet ring. There was no desire there to replace it with Snake’s wedding ring.

  He leaned his head against the tiled wall of his shower. Despite being shot, stabbed, and beaten within an inch of his life, that moment hurt far worse than any of the others. It was the scar that would never heal.

  She had rejected him time and again, but she had always come back. She always returned with that damnable look in those hazel-green eyes, and he’d melt like chocolate on her lips.

  And now she was out there alone.

  He turned off the shower, stepped onto the hunter-green rug and quickly toweled off. He was sliding into his jeans when Kid knocked on the door. “We’re about to start a movie,” he said after Snake allowed him in. “You wanna order Chinese or something?”

  “I have to run an errand,” Snake muttered as he slipped into a clean black shirt. “Use the grocery jar and order for yourselves.”

  Kid’s eyes widened as he watched Snake reach for his holster. Their eyes met. “It’s M.J., isn’t it?”

  “I don’t know,” Snake said honestly. “But probably.”

  “And it has something to do with Baby, doesn’t it?”

  Snake took a deep breath and stared at his younger brother. As much as he had resisted Kid getting involved in his past, there seemed no way to avoid it now. He needed his help, man to man. “Baby’s photo was found in those belongings at the first murder site.”

  Kid nodded. “Yeah. We know.”

  “How?”

  He shrugged. “Internet.”

  “Of course. Well, M.J. is trying to find this guy before he finds Baby. And I’m not going to be able to sit here and wait this one out. Not when the stakes are this high.”

  Kid nodded. He understood. “What do you need me to do?”

  Snake stopped in front of him. “Take care of Baby. She needs you.” They shared a brief glance, then Snake reached out with his hand to affectionately grab Kid by the scruff of the neck in one of those brotherly non-hugs they had enjoyed all their lives. That strong hand finally landed on Kid’s shoulder, equal to equal. No words were necessary as the mantle of manhood was passed. Snake turned and trotted down the hallway. “Call me if you need me,” he said, and Kid knew that meant if there was any sign of danger.

  As he watched his brother speed off on his bike, he locked every door and went on guard.

  Around the time that a delivery boy was dropping off bags of Chinese food at the house in Pasadena, Snake was letting himself into M.J.’s apartment with his spare key. The dark room was sparse. There was nothing on the walls, no personal knickknacks on the shelves. There were no framed photos or even a collection of carefully selected books. Anyone could have inhabited the space, and that was the point. Even the furniture was mismatched. There was a small TV, a battered but comfortable couch and chair, and a 1950s dining room table under a bare light bulb. The bedroom had a double bed covered in dark sheets. There was a lamp on one side and a dresser in the corner. She kept the bare essentials here, even in the bathroom.

  He went back into the kitchen, and he pieced together from the evidence that she had hardly eaten. In fact, her table was bare except for a small matchbook.

  His brow furrowed as he walked closer. He picked it up. He didn’t recognize the name, but he knew the area. He opened it to find the spot for one missing match. Curious, he bent his head and sniffed the smoke residue on the cardboard.

  He pocketed the matchbook and headed out the door.

  14. P CONTROL

  Kelly Harris and M.J. kept a low profile on the roof of the five-story building across the side street from Slick. Its height, and its location on the curved street catty-corner to the club, offered them the perfect 360-degree view of the premises. The darkened office building was also very discreet. They both wore dark clothing, so it was easy to slip into the shadows. Music thundered from the club as the big double doors opened to allow customers in through the purple-carpeted entrance, overseen by uniformed security. M.J. pulled her binoculars out and began scoping the exterior to find a point of entry.

  Kelly chuckled, which made her give him a stern side glare. “What?”

  “Just thinking that with all your training and skill, you could have made lieutenant by now.”

  She scoffed as she turned back to her task. “The pay sucks. And cops are assholes. Present company included,” she added, and he could hardly argue. “So what’s your story anyway, Harris?”

  He reached into his jacket for his own pair of compact binoculars. “Same old, same old. Poor kid without direction finds the police academy. Joined for the gunplay. Stayed for the pension. The end.”

  It was her turn to chuckle. “Bullshit.”

  “You don’t believe me?”

  “Nope.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you paid for those binoculars yourself.” She hadn’t even turned her head to look at them. “You’re the job.”

  “You sound pretty sure of yourself,” he murmured.

  She glanced him over. “You’re not a bad-looking guy, but you make no effort to make yourself appealing to other people. You keep yourself scruffy on purpose, and you have an off-putting, cocky personality. That means you don’t want people to get too close.”

  “Sounds familiar,” he said and smirked.

  “You don’t wear a ring, so clearly you’re not married. No pictures of happy kids cluttering your desk like Landers. In fact, if you move that hair out of your face, I might see the ‘fuck off’ sticker you keep there.”

  “You know a lot about that sticker, don’t you?”

  “Yep,” she answered simply. “Because I’m the job.”

  “So I take it there’s no Mr. M.J.”

  “There’s nobody,” she said. She caught sight of the janitors as they emptied trash into the locked receptacle area just behind the club. One stepped out of the service door for a cigarette, which he concealed from the security camera that swept the perimeter, knocking once to be let back in when he was done. In those three minutes, M.J. collected all the information she needed to formulate her plan. “Let’s go.”

  They left some of their gear behind as they headed down the fire escape toward the street. When they made it back around to the alley behind the club, she pointed out the discreet security cameras attached to the ten-foot concrete fence. They ducked down in the shrubbery, close together. The motion-sensing cameras clicked and whirled as they surveyed the area. He shielded her with his body, their heads close, flush together just behind a row of bushes. She tapped his shoulder when the camera tilted away, and they stepped apart.

  “How are we going to get past that?”

  “I can disable it,” she said. “I just need a boost.”

  “What about the hooks?” he suggested.

  “Just try swinging one around that motion-controlled camera. Security will be out here before it lands. Besides, I left them across the street. You said you wanted to help me. Here’s your chance.”

  He bit back a response and they hurried along with their task before the camera could swing back around, sticking to the shadows in the furthermost corner. He boosted her up and she straddled the fence.

  “What are you going to do?” he whispered as he kept watch on the camera.

  “Ditch you,” she said, and she vaulted to the other side of the darkened alley. She could hear him curse before he had to dive back into the bushes, but she didn’t care. He had served his purpose. She sprinted toward the trash receptacle, which had been left unlocked for the next wave of trash that would be coming through. She slipped behind the door and waited.

  Only one jani
tor appeared, and that suited her fine. She jammed the back of her elbow right into his nose, a surprise strike from the shadows that knocked him backwards. As his eyes fluttered, she spun him around and knocked him headfirst into the concrete wall. He slid down into an unconscious heap.

  She worked quickly to undress him, removing the black work suit with ease. The Hispanic man was a bit bigger than she was, but the costume fit, and it concealed her long braided ponytail from the neck down. She pulled him around behind the dumpster before dashing into the club.

  She kept her head low as she moved through the throng of grunts who worked behind the scenes to keep the magic going. No one seemed to care about a janitor, so most people didn’t even look at her as she moved along the wall to the stairs. It was a smaller staircase meant just for staff, and she blended into the dim lighting, inching her way upstairs.

  Snake idled up to the curb just down the street from Slick. He knew better than to park anywhere nearby, so he paid for parking at a lot on another block and hoofed it to get a better look. There was a line around the large club, all manner of people waiting to be seated. There were groupies and wannabe rock stars along with businessmen still in their three-piece suits. Party girls stood in noisy groups, already giddy for their naughty night out on the town. He joined the back of the line behind a scruffy-looking man who looked like he needed a stiff drink.

  “Rough night?” Snake asked.

  The other man glanced around. He had a couple of leaves stuck in his hoodie and scratches on his face. “You have no idea.”

  “Ninety-nine problems and all that,” Snake grinned. “You ever been to this place?”

  The other man shook his head. “Only know it by reputation.” He brushed away some of the residual dirt on his hoodie.

  “You got some leaves over there,” Snake pointed out, and the other man sneered and brushed them away. “Beer’s on me,” Snake offered. “If we ever get in.”

  The man’s face grew severe as he glanced toward the darkened windows upstairs. “Yeah. If we get in.”

  M.J. tried every knob along the long hallway, keeping her hands close to her body as she moved from door to door. She might have knocked, but the sounds of sex, often violent sounds, rose from behind the doors, and she needed to be as stealthy as possible.

  Finally one gave way and she was able to step inside. The room was decorated all in white, from the walls to the artwork to the sheets on the bed. As she moved closer she could see the black restraints that were attached to the headboard and footboard of the double bed that dominated the room. She tried the closet, but it was locked as well. She removed a stick pin from her grandfather’s handkerchief that she kept wrapped tightly around her wrist. She eased it in and jimmied the lock until it rewarded her with a resounding click. She opened the door and was immediately disturbed by the contents. There were bondage toys, big black sex toys, and more restraints. There was a number of costumes, which seemed to be tailored for a variety of ethnic stereotypes.

  She didn’t touch anything. She closed the closet door and slid back along the wall and into the hallway. The next room had a red light coming out from under the door, and the man inside was talking dirty to his “little harlot.” She noticed a blue light under another door, and she could hear a man clearly dominating his submissive. She started to put it together.

  She headed straight for the room with the green light. It seemed her best bet. There were no sounds inside, but that could be misleading. Gingerly, she eased the pick back out of her wristband and jimmied the lock. It opened as easily as the closet had. She pushed the door open slightly. Her eyes struggled to focus as she peered inside, and she honed in on a girl curled up in a ball, facing the other way.

  She crept closer. Just as she reached the bed, her arm snaked around the girl to clamp her hand over her mouth. The girl screamed, and M.J. turned her over quickly. “Shh, don’t be scared. I’m here to help you.”

  The girl’s blue eyes were bright with tears. As M.J. pulled her hand away, she nearly wept with joy herself. It was Tammy, the girl from the photo. “Who are you?” she whispered.

  “A friend of Baby’s,” M.J. said, but the information only confused the girl.

  “Who?”

  She didn’t have time to explain it. “The friend of a friend,” she amended. “I can get you out of here, but you have to trust me, okay?”

  Tammy and M.J. stood. The girl was barely dressed, and even in the low light M.J. spotted the welts and the bruises. She kept her rage below the surface. She unzipped the work suit and stepped out of it, handing it to Tammy. “Put this on.” The shaking girl did as she was told. M.J. wondered when she’d last had a good meal. “You’re going to follow me out of here,” she instructed in a quiet voice. “There are some stairs that will lead you down the back way to the service exit.”

  “I can’t just walk right out of here,” she said.

  “Yeah, you can.”

  “How?”

  M.J. met her frightened gaze. “I’m going to give them something else to look at.”

  She went to the closet and pulled out one of the tops. It was a leather bra about two sizes too small, and the price tag was still on it. M.J. peeled off her shirt and thrust it to Tammy. Here. You’ll need to camouflage the work suit once you get out of here.”

  M.J. squeezed into the bra and shook her wild hair loose. She looked in one of the room’s many mirrors and gave her reflection a smile. Her eyes sparkled behind her dark makeup.

  She shadowed Tammy until they reached the service stairs. “Where do I go?” Tammy asked.

  “Run as fast and as far as you can. Then go to this place,” she said, handing Tammy a card wrapped in a couple of twenties. Normally she sent her rescues to the Roses N’ Palms, but that was no longer an option. Instead she directed her to a busy all-night diner where she could redeem that card for a free meal. Tammy reached for it but M.J. held it fast, forcing the younger girl to look her in the eye. “Listen to me. This guy is going to come looking for you. If you bolt now, he’ll find you. Go to this diner. Get something to eat. I’ll be there within an hour and I’ll pay for you to get out of town.”

  The girl shook her head. “It doesn’t matter where I go. He’ll find me.”

  “I’ve done it before,” M.J. told her. “You just have to trust me.”

  A door slammed down the hall, making Tammy jump. Finally she nodded, and M.J. released the money. The girl slipped out of sight down the darkened stairwell.

  M.J. turned toward the showroom.

  Snake and his new companion finally entered the club. The other guy flashed his ID—Bob Thomas from Scottsdale, Arizona—while Snake showed one that proclaimed him to be Eugene Fitzpatrick, San Clemente. The other man extended a hand and introduced himself. “Bob.”

  “Eugene,” Snake returned with a grin. “How about that beer?”

  They met a stunning brunette who guided them toward the main showroom. Three dancers were already on stage, writhing around the poles to a thick, heavy beat. The two men were seated in one of the many front row tables by the stage, off to the left in the shadows, near one of the secondary dancers who was finishing her routine. They ordered their beers and proceeded to share completely fabricated stories as they made small talk in between acts.

  “In town on business?” Snake asked.

  “You could say that,” Bob replied. “Let’s just say it was a merger gone bad.”

  “What do you do?”

  “Consulting,” Bob replied. “You?”

  “Construction,” Snake lied easily.

  “Married?” Bob asked, and Snake shook his head and shrugged.

  “Still waiting for my childhood sweetheart to friend me on Facebook. You?”

  Bob shook his head. “You know how it is. When your life is your job, you have to make certain sacrifices.”

  Snake nodded. “I hear that,” he said. He raised his glass and they toasted. Before another word was said, their attention was caught by a half-na
ked redhead who walked out onto the black T-shaped stage. The lights narrowed to a spotlight on the new solo dancer taking center stage.

  It was M.J.

  A slick beat underscored each movement as she took command of that stage like a pro. Her eyes scanned the crowd, looking for someone in particular, and finding him. She locked eyes with Dominic Isbecky across the room and began to swirl around the pole with a finesse and an expertise that shocked both Bob and Snake as they sat stupefied on the sidelines.

  M.J. did not even register their familiar faces. She had one job to do and she planned to do it well. Her eyes held Isbecky’s as she beckoned him closer with nothing more than the sway of her hips and her overflowing cleavage. She opened her legs as she squatted low, then curled back around the pole.

  Her moves were aggressive as she stalked the stage. Patrons threw dollar bills her direction, which she’d stoop to retrieve, inspect, and throw to the side with a derisive sneer. She was worth way more, and she let every single one of them know it as she assaulted that pole. She lifted her weight off of the floor and into the air, arching her back until her head almost touched the stage. She spun around to the heavy bass, then landed in a split on the floor. Her arms rippled as she pulled herself back up again, climbing along the pole like a snake. She was in complete control as she held back what they wanted most, the ultimate tease. The crowd went wild as she finished her act, even though she didn’t drop one stitch of clothing or accept one dollar. Her disdain for them only made them hotter.

  She hopped down in front of Isbecky, standing in front of him face-to-face. His smile was more of a snarl as his fingers clamped around her bare arm. Her face remained stoic as she eyed him triumphantly, even while he dragged her from the stage. Bob jumped up, but Snake pulled him back down again. Their eyes met and Snake shook his head. “You follow her, it’ll only make it worse.” He stared off after M.J. “She can handle it.”