Chapter 1 #2
“I wouldn’t have to house them long. I’m sure I could find buyers quickly.”
She forced a smile. “Except you’ve got a Fed up your ass, and your buyers are running scared, which is why you came looking for me.”
“That’s not how I remember it, sweetheart.
” He licked his sun-cracked lips. The deep-set lines on his overly tanned face looked more like scars than wrinkles.
“As I recall, you took one man’s unfounded paranoia and turned a profit for yourself.
” He winked. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you made my buyer more paranoid just to get the business yourself. ”
She shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time a woman went after what she wanted.”
“That’s such a turn on.” He grabbed his junk and smiled. “Hmmmmmm. You’re lucky I’ve got my fill of women right now, or I’d be bending you over right here. ”
She swallowed. “My husband wouldn’t take too kindly to that, and frankly, neither would I.” She forced a smile. “No offense, but we’ll make better business partners.”
“We shall see,” he said, adjusting his belt. “If your guy doesn’t show up by tomorrow, consider yourself mine in a different way.”
“Ramos?” Alicia’s voice called out from down the hallway. The clicking of her heels on the tile echoed off the walls. She smiled coolly as she approached. “We’ve got a little bit of a problem,” she said, resting her hand on his shoulder.
“So handle it,” he said with frustration laced in his tone. “That’s what I pay you to do.”
“I did handle it.” Alicia smoothed her hand down his arm in a possessive manner. “But your manager at the Holding Tank doesn’t like what I did and is now demanding to see you. He’s sitting on the front porch. I told him you were busy.”
“That man is such a pussy,” Ramos said with a grunt. “I think it’s time to put him in his place.”
Leandra shivered. Those words could mean anything.
“I’ll leave you to your business. Good night.
” She turned on her heels and headed down the long corridor, wondering if the Holding Tank was one of his casinos or something else.
She paused, glancing over her shoulder. Ramos walked down the hallway with Alicia, his hand on her ass.
Following them would be dangerous, and if he found her poking around, well, then this might go down as the worst situation she’d ever gotten herself into.
And bad situations seemed to follow her around.
The bedroom door clicked closed, but she knew better than to lock it. If Ramos found out, the circle of trust would be broken.
Not that he trusted her.
It didn’t matter since she had no idea how she was going to pull ‘a guy’ out of her butt that could pretend to know a thing or two about the human trafficking market. Her father always warned her that bluffing would someday bite her in the ass that Ramos had just violated.
She kicked off her heels and flung herself on the bed. She really should sneak out tonight and never look back. If she left now, she could be back at her apartment in Brooklyn, New York, in two days. Of course, that would be forty-eight hours of looking over her shoulder.
The fan above her hummed as the blades whirled, sending warm air across her already heated body, but not it a good way.
Why southerners thought eighty degrees on the AC as a set temperature was acceptable, she’d never know.
She pushed herself to a sitting position and took her phone from the nightstand.
Not a single contact had gotten back to her.
She swallowed the tickle of fear that rose from the pit of her stomach.
She’d give her buddies until four in the morning.
If no one came through, she’d have to make a run for it.
A tear formed in the corner of her eye. She’d promised Mr. and Mrs. Denton that she’d find their daughter, Skyler, no matter what.
Leandra rubbed her eyes as she entered the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face.
Staring at her reflection in the mirror, she heard faint footsteps.
She peered out of the bathroom but saw nothing—unless you counted the guards just walking around the big house.
She slipped from her clothes, opting for a more comfortable pair of shorts and a tank top.
Not that she didn’t like to dress up occasionally, but she’d take a pair of jeans and a T-shirt any day of the week over dressing like she belonged on the catwalk, especially being ‘curvy’ or ‘a little round’ as her size four mother called her.
Mom thought she was being nice in her choice of words, but it stung just the same.
Being raised by a beauty queen who was born with a silver spoon in her mouth had been a challenge for the tough-as-nails tomboy, Leandra.
She and her mother had struggled to get along their entire lives, but now things were tolerable as long as her mother didn’t remind Leandra what men liked in a woman.
Leandra turned off the main light, keeping the small lamp next to the bed on.
A shadow moved across the window. She shivered.
Sneaking out wouldn’t be that easy. She’d have to time things perfectly.
There were only four guards on the property, but they were heavily armed.
She sent messages to a couple of her private investigator friends, begging for help on this one.
All she needed was to buy a little time.
She tapped her tablet and opened her document on Ramos. He’d started out as a two-bit hustler, working his way up to running one of the biggest underground casino rings, and now he was running people.
Another shadow darted across the window opposite the wall. It was impossible to ignore that right down the hall was a stone-cold killer. She reached across the bed, pulling her weapon from her suitcase on the floor, cocking it, resting it next to her, and keeping her finger on the butt of the gun.
The rustling of something outside startled her once again.
Her stomach tightened into a fist of knots.
Scrolling on her tablet, she found the picture of Skyler Denton.
Beautiful eighteen-year-old young woman with sandy-brown hair, cut to her shoulders in the front, much shorter in the back.
Leandra ran her fingers across the screen, just under Skyler’s ice-blue eyes.
In the picture she smiled, arms looped around her brother and sister, her parents standing proudly behind them.
“I’m going to find you,” she whispered just as she noticed a shadow in the bathroom. Grabbing her weapon, she scooted to the side of the bed, raising her arms and pointing the gun toward the door.
Paranoid.
And seeing things.
No one would climb through the window in the bathroom. At least no one from Ramos’ organization.
Or would they?
On tiptoes, she eased across the room, pressing her back against the wall.
The slight screech from what could have been a soft-soled shoe echoed from the bathroom.
The noise could have also been leaves rustling against the window.
She sucked in a quiet breath. It made no sense that one of Ramos’ guys would come at her like this.
They’d just barge through the bedroom door.
She let her breath out as she shimmied against the wall until her shoulder touched the molding of the door. Pivoting on her heels, she lunged through the door, weapon drawn. Her heart pounded so hard against her ribs she worried one would break.
Nothing.
She held her weapon steady as she scanned the small room, finding no one and nothing disturbed.
She shook her head, blinking. When she took on this case, she thought it was a simple missing person.
A teenage girl who had run away from home, more than once, hooked on drugs and probably prostituting herself.
Skyler had done all of the above the last time she’d run away.
But this time? Leandra believed she’d been kidnapped.
Skyler had left her parents’ home, ten months sober and on her way to a college class where she’d been getting straight A’s. Her purse, backpack, and phone had been found in the parking lot of the community college.
Worse, none of her old friends from her days on the streets had heard from her, much less seen her.
Leandra turned toward the mirror and gasped as a tall, well-built man dressed in black lunged from the linen closet. She twisted, shifting her gun, but he managed to grab hold of her wrist with a firm grip. His other arm wrapped tightly around her body, hauling her back tight to his chest.
“Be quiet,” he whispered. His blue eyes held her gaze in the mirror.
His chiseled features sent a shiver down her spine.
But it was the way the corner of his lips tipped upward that made her pause.
She should think him menacing, but that smile made him look as if he were hitting on her from across a crowded bar.
With her free arm, she jabbed him in the gut with her elbow. He groaned, but his rock-hard stomach didn’t flinch. As she prepared to nail him again, he yanked her arm down, smashing it against the counter, sending her weapon spinning across the top, knocking over the soap dispenser.
“Fuck,” she muttered as he covered her mouth with his hand.
“Shhhhhh.” He smiled at her in the mirror. “We don’t want Ramos knowing I’m here.”
She narrowed her eyes into tiny slits and dug her heel into his foot.
Grunting, he pushed her against the sink, bending her slightly at the waist, pinning her. “Stop fighting me,” he whispered. “I don’t want to have to hurt you.”
Taking in a deep breath, she let her body relax a little into his while two things came to mind: How the fuck did he get in that linen closet with his size, and no way would she stop fighting.
“I was sent to help you. ”