Chapter 9: Not the Good Guys
Derek
Baltimore is cold and windy when we arrive. Patrick’s booked us three rooms in the Four Seasons on Harbor East—perfect for our setup, and close to potential hook-up locations. I’ve promised Melissa to make this happen as quickly as possible, but the truth is, we’ve got to establish ourselves in this location, make a plan, and scout the best place for the ultimate encounter.
Toni arrived the night before, and she’s asked to go by Star Brandon again for this gig. Seems that’s her go-to alias. We meet at the bar for our first planning session.
“You don’t think Star sounds too… hooker-ish?” Patrick is frowning as he studies the drink menu.
Toni… or Star is wearing a cream, Calvin Klein dress that hugs her slim body and ends mid-thigh. Her long hair is now wavy and colored light brown, and she’s wearing about eighty percent less makeup than at the Skinniflute. Light-brown eyeliner and mascara, pale pink lips. I hate to admit it, but she does resemble Melissa. She’s hot.
“You fell for it.” Her mouth is the only thing that gives her away—and her husky smoker’s voice.
“You were also a blonde.” Patrick laughs and has the decency to appear ashamed of himself.
I lift the tumbler of Scotch I ordered. “You’re going to have to fix your delivery to catch Sloan’s interest.”
Instantly, her voice turns soft and high, slightly breathy. “My delivery? Is this what you mean?” She blinks up at me with doe eyes.
“Shit,” I sip the beverage. “I don’t get to say this very often, but Patrick was right. You’re good.”
She smiles and lifts the vodka she ordered, holding it out to clink my glass. “Trust me, big boy. I’ll nail this bastard for you.”
“That’s the only reason I’m here.” I give her tumbler a bump.
Patrick lifts his drink off the bar and takes her elbow. “Let’s find a place where we won’t be overheard.”
In a corner booth near the back of the hotel bar, we group close together to strategize. “Bennett is keeping tabs on Sloan, putting together a schedule of his week, his favorite haunts.”
“Why am I here?” Star’s watching me. “I mean, what reason do I give for being in the city?”
Fuck, she’s smart. “I can tell you’ve done this before. What are you comfortable doing? What’s familiar?”
“Patrick fell for me being a temp. I could say I’m with Contemporary Staffing?”
My partner leans back to sip his drink. “Is that classy enough for our guy?”
Thinking about what I know, I study the table. “It’s probably the best thing. It’s why you need extra money. Perhaps you’ve come up from DC?”
“Where I was shagging a senator.” Her dark eyes twinkle, and I’m mildly disturbed that her alibi is so believable.
“Yes. It’ll appeal to his ego. You’re good enough for the powerful.”
Patrick nods. “Now we just need to work out the initial encounter and hooking him.”
“I’ll hook him.” Star’s eyes slide over to my partner. “I give a hell of a hummer, remember?”
Clearing his throat, Patrick stands. “I need a fresh drink. Anybody else?”
I nod. “Thanks.” When he’s away, I turn back to Star. “You’ll probably have to meet him more than once to get us what we need. I doubt he gets rough the first time. How do you feel about that?”
“I want to work out with you guys.”
That wasn’t the answer I expected. “What does that have to do with—”
“Yes.” She’s dead serious, so I hold back and listen. “I’ll probably have to fuck him at least once before we get what we need, but I’ve been taking kickboxing classes. I want you guys to help me get stronger.”
My eyes narrow. “What’s on your mind?”
She doesn’t miss a beat. “Revenge.”
The workout room at the Four Seasons is state of the art, as to be expected in a five-star hotel, but I catch a cab to the Druid Hill YMCA instead. Patrick takes the city bus; Star takes the Metro. We don’t want to be seen together too much around our location.
Bennett has verified we can stage an encounter with Sloan easily in Little Italy. It seems our target is a Thursday night regular at the Oceanaire Seafood Room. It’s perfect, and gives us a few days to scout more secluded spots nearby. Somewhere Star can take him where Patrick and I can be in the shadows, waiting.
“I can’t wear a wire.” Star is curling the bar I’ve loaded for her with fifty pounds. “If he starts exploring under my clothes, it’s too risky.”
We’re in a somewhat private area of the gym, but we still need to be speaking in code. “The last thing I’m interested in is hearing you interact with him, but you’re all we’ve got in terms of capture.”
Patrick’s nearby curling dumbbells. “It’s true, and I don’t like you getting too far out of our reach with him.”
Star curls one more time and puts the bar down. “So you two get a peep show.” She shrugs. “I’ve done worse for an audience.”
My partner puts down the weights and picks up his towel, holding it in front of his mouth as if he’s wiping away sweat. “What are you planning? I expect it’ll take two… maybe three encounters before he’ll show his true colors. Hopefully, not more.”
“First night, drinks, making out, BJ most likely.” She’s holding her towel in a similar fashion as Patrick, over her face, pressing it to her forehead. I’m sitting on the bench, leaned forward doing curls, pretending not to listen as she continues. “Second night, more of the same, penetration. Third night, kick his ass.”
Sick fills my stomach. All of this is messed up, and it’s the only way we’re taking my fiancée’s stalker off the grid. His lawyers will have a hard time arguing against a battered hooker full of Sloan’s DNA. I can’t wait to see them try.
“You sure you’re okay with this?” Regardless of her past experience or what she claims, I can’t help asking one more time.
Her expression is hard and flat when she answers me. “Yes. I’m helping you, but I’m also doing this for Tiffany. Now let’s hit the bags.”
Kickboxing.
That evening at the hotel, I’m dead. Strength training is one thing, but strength training combined with two hours of kickboxing is over my limit. My phone has a few missed texts from Melissa, but instead of texting her back, I call.
The sound of her eases the tension in my chest. “Where have you been all day?”
“At the Y. Strength training and kickboxing.”
“Kickboxing?” Her voice goes high. “Honey, I wasn’t implying anything yesterday morning…”
That makes me laugh, remembering our conversation in bed. “We’re helping our bait get better prepared to defend herself.”
“You sound tense again.” Her playful tone is gone. Worry and guilt are in her voice, and my arms long to hold her. “I hate this so much. I hate remembering he’s out there, thinking of that poor girl facing him alone. For me.”
“Star is not a poor girl, trust me.”
“Star?”
Lying back on the bed, I rub my forehead. “That seems to be her stage name, so we’re going with it.”
“I guess if she’s taking the risk, she gets to call a few shots.”
“I don’t like it any more than you do.” Sitting up, I study my hand, clenching it into a fist and relaxing. “I’ve gone over it so many times in my mind, trying to find another way.”
She exhales. “What if you’re wrong and I’m not in danger?”
“I’m not wrong, and I won’t let him even think about coming near you.”
“Okay, but just for a moment… what if he’s moved past me?”
Everything in my experience knows that’s not true. Melissa belongs to Sloan in his eyes, and he’ll be back for her. But I know it’s important for her to feel like she’s not the only reason we’re here.
So I give her something else to think about. “You said it yourself—there’s always another Jessica Black. He’s got to be taken off the streets.”
She doesn’t answer, and for a few moments, we’re quiet. “How much longer will you be away?”
“Thursday night will be our first contact. We expect it’ll take a few meetings before he relaxes enough to get rough.” I look out at the setting sun, thinking of all the people living normal lives, doing regular things right now. One day soon, that will be me again. “I expect it to be like I said, two weeks tops.”
“I miss you.” Her voice is sad, and I want to lighten the mood.
“What did you do today?”
Sounds of her moving through her house fill my ear. I can almost see her walking, her dark waves swaying down her back. “Had lunch with Mom, finished Bea’s online storefront. If I were there, I could meet with her in person and be with you.”
I shake my head, even though she can’t see me. “It’s too risky, and if you’re seen here, it could put him on alert. It could jeopardize the whole plan. Just hang tight, okay?”
“Elaine and I’ll probably trade off spending the night together.”
“That’s a great idea. You can keep each other company.”
“She’ll be sexting with Patrick the whole time.”
My eyebrows rise. “I’ll keep you company then.”
“I’d rather do it in person. I could be waiting for you when you get in. Massage that stress away… kiss your skin… naked.” Her words register right below my belt, causing me to shift in my seat.
“Forget the sexting, let’s talk it out now. What are you wearing?”
“Maternity clothes at last!”
I laugh. “How’s the baby?”
“It seems like I’m showing even more since yesterday.” Sadness gone, I can hear her excitement rising. “I really want us together when he starts moving.”
Closing my eyes, I can see her gorgeous body, full breasts, stomach just starting to round out. “When can we find out if you’re right?”
“Twenty weeks is when they usually do ultrasounds for gender.”
It’s getting close. “I’ll be there. Take care of you both.”
The warmth is back. “Love you.”
“Love you more.”
We say goodnight, and for a moment I lie on the bed thinking. If there were any way she could be here, damn straight I’d have her here yesterday. In the meantime, I’ll hit the shower. We’re on our own for dinner, and since my partner is apparently occupied, I want to check out a local jewelry store for something platinum and diamond encrusted.
Thursday couldn’t arrive soon enough, but now that we’re on the verge, our plan feels shakier than ever. We spent the day yesterday locating a private spot off an alleyway. A closed balcony that’s above and somewhat hidden is attached to the restaurant. Patrick managed to talk the staff into letting us use it, and from what he says, he didn’t have to give any information away.
He and I will be up there monitoring, where we can drop down if needed. Star will lead Sloan into the dark alley and do whatever she needs to do. Once the ball is rolling, we’ll tune out unless she gives us the signal.
The real action shouldn’t occur before next week. I’m actually hoping it will, but I have nothing to base it on besides my gut. The true timeline could be longer or shorter.
While we’d waited for Patrick to work his magic on the restaurant staff, Star and I had checked out the access in and out of the small lane that runs behind the businesses.
It seems to have been intended for deliveries, but most the doors are welded shut or appear unused. She watches as I try them, one after the other.
“You don’t approve of me.” She’s following me a few steps behind, and today she’s in black leggings and boots, topped off by a short bomber jacket and white sweater that doesn’t even cover her ass.
“You came into my office, set up my partner…” I grunt as I push on another sealed door. “No. It’s safe to say I don’t consider you one of the good guys.”
She pulls her long, brown hair over her shoulder in an elegant sweep. Again, I’m impressed at her ability to shrug off the white trash so easily. “I’m sorry I fucked with Patrick, but I didn’t have the whole story. And I needed the money.”
“You fucked with my business, my reputation. It’s the same as if you fucked me.”
“I think I’d remember that.” Her voice is soft, and she smiles up at me.
I shake my head. I’m not sure if she’s attempting to mend bridges or flirt, but I’m not interested in either option. “You’ll need to be here for us to see you.” Pointing to the black metal door with the orange band across the bottom. “Can you remember this door? It’s pretty distinctive.”
“I think I’ll remember it.”
“Okay.” I nod and head back up the alley to where Patrick’s supposed to meet us. This should work.
Once we’re together at the top, she tries again. “I’ve never seen a man like you do that before.”
My brow lines. “What are you talking about?”
“That day in Raleigh, when you left so fast and took Patrick’s car.” Her arms are crossed and she looks genuinely concerned. “It’s hard to believe someone like you can feel fear.”
“Everyone feels fear.” I look at my hands again. “Just target the one thing they can’t live without.”
I close my fist, and I can’t help thinking I could end this, no charade necessary.
She touches my arm. “I decided that day I’d do whatever you asked. What do you want me to do?”
For a second, I’m confused. Then I realize she’s talking about Sloan. “Oh. I don’t know.” I exhale deeply. “I’m not looking to be judge, jury, and executioner here. I just want whatever it takes to put him away for good.”
“If you’re not judge, jury, and executioner, then you don’t want him out of your life permanently.” Her dark eyes hold mine, and I can see she’s waiting for me to say the word. It’s hard to believe this small woman might be capable of doing anything more forceful than turning state’s witness.
“You’re wrong. I do want him out of our lives permanently.”
She’s still holding my gaze when I hear Patrick approaching.
“Okay!” His breezy voice breaks through the tension. “I’ve got it all set up. Derek and I’ll be on the balcony. It’s closed, so you won’t hear us, but we’ll be there… What’s going on?”
He stops in front of us, and I know my partner’s too smart to be fooled. “What’s the plan if Star gets in over her head?”
“I won’t.” Her voice is sharp and argumentative. “You two just stay back and let me handle it. Don’t fuck up our case being overprotective.”
Patrick nods. “Safe word. You need a safe word, T.”
“What the hell?” She’s confused, but I see where he’s going with it. He’s right.
“What’s something you can yell that you’d never say during sex?”
A laugh bursts from her mouth with an exhale. “Sangria?”
“Can you yell that?” Patrick’s running it over in his mind, and I can tell he approves already. “It’s good because it won’t alert the other patrons. They’ll think it’s just some drunken diner…”
“Hell, it won’t even alert him if he’s not paying attention.” I’m irritated that Star’s smart. She could do more with her life than this.
“Sangria it is.” Patrick leads us out of the alley. “Now we just have to get changed, head to the bar and wait.”
Hours later, we’re back at the Oceanaire.
Patrick is the only one in the bar with Star. He’s not even with her; he’s down a few seats nursing a vodka tonic. Sloan knows me, so once they’re situated, I head to the secluded balcony to wait.
The staff doesn’t even look up when I pass through the side hall off the kitchen and dash up the narrow flight of stairs.
I’ve only seen this spot from the outside. Inside is a whole different story. It’s technically not a balcony. It’s more like a closet with a window that opens. It’s tight and cramped, and it smells like musty socks and body odor. I cover my nose with my hand, thinking this is going to be a long night. What I’m pretty sure is a used condom lies discarded in the corner.
Apparently this is a hot spot for hookups. My first thought is we should’ve put Star here, but then she would’ve been too inaccessible. My second thought is what the hell did Patrick say he and I would be doing up here? Fuck it. I can’t worry about that now.
I text him to turn on the surveillance app, so I can hear what he’s seeing. His phone will be out on the bar, and the technology’s not perfected. I’ll get plenty of noise along with the conversation through my earbuds, but I’ll be able to follow what they’re saying.
He texts back they’re not in place yet, and I have to wait. Tension tightens the muscles in my abdomen. Fucking surveillance. I’ve never liked how much waiting was involved in this part of this job. It’s a big reason private investigative work lost out over corporate when Stuart and I set up the firm. I feel around the one small window looking for a latch to release it. If we have to get down there fast, one of us can jump. Pushing it open and looking down, I decide that’ll be Patrick’s job.
A blip on my phone, and I know the subject’s in the building. I’m so tense, the muscles across my upper back ache. Star’s competent. She’s demonstrated her street smarts and experience. She’s committed to this job for more reasons than just helping us. But right now is our most important moment. If this blows up, we could lose our licenses. We could be arrested for entrapment…
This has to work.
I slip the earbuds in my ears. Noise.
The ting of ice against crystal, crash of liquor bottles against racks.
Voices are speaking, but I don’t hear anything familiar.
Finally, a voice I do recognize cuts through the din.
“I’m sorry.” Star’s tone is breathy and high. Marilyn Monroe. “Do you mind if I wait here? I’m supposed to be meeting someone.”
“Of course not.” Sloan is casual, but I’m a guy. There’s a spark of interest there.
Tonight, she’s wearing a filmy black dress that ends at her knees. It’s got a high slit on the side and thin straps over her shoulders, so it’s clear she takes care of her body. We got her a very light golden spray-tan and her hair is styled loose down her back. A silver cuff bracelet, thin necklace, and small hoop earrings are her only accessories. She’s classy, but also sexy enough to get the wheels turning.
The noise of the bar is loud in my ears, and I can only imagine what’s happening. Bartenders moving fast, patrons waiting to put in drink orders. Finally, Sloan orders a Manhattan. Star already has a cosmopolitan—a drink she says is for wannabe little bitches. Whatever. So long as she keeps all that to herself.
“Oh,” more Marilyn. “I’m sorry again. It’s so crowded here tonight. Is it always like this?”
“Thursdays are the busiest night here.” Sloan sounds relaxed—I’m not sure if that’s good or bad. “They get the local crowd combined with the tourists just arriving.”
She breathes a soft laugh. “I wonder which of those I’d be.”
“You’re not from Baltimore?”
“No, I’m a tourist hoping to become a local.”
“So you’re relocating.”
It’s pretty banal stuff, but at least she’s got him talking.
“I hope to. I’m supposed to be meeting someone from Contemporary Staffing, but it looks like they’re not coming.”
They’re quiet for a few minutes. Did she lose him? Fuck. If he walks away, we’re left with nothing. A desperate hooker is way too suspicious for his taste.
Another agonizing minute passes.
At last a voice, but it’s not either of the ones I want to hear. “Your table’s ready Mr. Reynolds.”
Shit.
“Well, good luck to you, Miss…”
“Brandon. Star Brandon.”
“Sloan Reynolds. Nice chatting with you.”
It’s quiet again, and my gut sinks. Now what?
Just as I was pulling out the earbud his voice comes back. “If you’re still here in a little while, I’ll be back at the bar after dinner.”
Star’s voice is a sexy purr. “I won’t go anywhere.”
Now it’s back to waiting. And hoping he doesn’t have second thoughts and order dessert.