14. Kato
Chapter 14
Kato
C allie looks like a supermodel in her undercover outfit, albeit a short one. Gun has hardly been able to take his eyes off her from the moment she stepped out of the bunk room all dolled up. That ship sailed long ago and was the only way to release pressure between the sheets.
She flicks her loose curls behind her shoulder, and I watch Gun’s eyes follow the glinting blonde hair with amusement. He must not be hooking up with anyone because the man is drooling.
“What do you think? How is the dress?” she asks, spinning in a circle. Hati, in his own disguise, lets out a low, playful whistle. Her dress is form-fitting but not skin-tight; the fabric slinks across her curves and moves with her as she moves.
“I can promise you that you are going to command attention in there tonight looking like that,” I reassure her, and she offers up an awkward smile, cheeks pink with embarrassment.
“Wowza is all I can say,” Gun says, finally picking his jaw up off the floor.
“Are you feeling ready?” I ask, jingling the keys to the van. Nervous energy is building up in me, and I have no real way to let it out.
“As ready as I can be,” Callie shifts from foot to foot, her heels clacking on the cement floors.
“We will drop you off at a restaurant about a mile away so you can take your Uber and not draw unwanted attention to yourself by hopping out of an unmarked van at the bar. We’ll be close, is that okay?”
“Believe it or not, I’ve taken an Uber or two before in my life,” Callie says, rolling her eyes. She’s starting to get a little sick of the kid gloves with which we’ve been treating her.
“Let’s go,” I nod to the team, and we all hustle off without saying another word. Hati fidgets with his brown, short wig in the elevator all the way down to the underground parking garage. He looks much less like the Thor figure we’ve come to know and love, but he’ll certainly draw less attention this way.
The monitors hum in the back of the van, and the heat being kicked out from the computer fans warms the back of the van. A thin layer of sweat forms on my brow. Hati is in the building before Callie arrives, keeping a low profile at the bar.
Gun’s eyes are glued to the screen as we take stock of the bar scene on hidden cameras installed hours ago. It turns out the bar’s owner had a few legal issues that we could easily resolve if he let us get eyes on the bar until we catch this guy.
It turns out that customer privacy doesn’t matter all that much to him as soon as that offer was on the table. Go Figure.
Tonight, the bar is full of beautiful women and men who appear to have money with no problem flashing their Rolexes and wads of cash in their strained money clips. It’s busy, but early enough in the night that I can still keep my eye on Callie without too much of a fight.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out, reluctant to take my eyes off the monitors. But Gun’s not looking away, so I spare a glance at my phone.
“Good luck tonight. I’m good for a voice ID if you need it. The house feels lonely without you.” My heart skips a beat as I read the last sentence. Did Elara just tell me she misses me? An involuntary grin spreads across my face as I type back to her.
“I might take you up on that. Hoping we get done here before you fall asleep.”
Immediately, I see the three dots on the screen, indicating that she’s typing. The hairs on the back of my neck raise, and my stomach flutters with excited nerves.
“With all this excitement? I doubt I’ll be able to sleep until I hear everything from you when you return. Now get back to work.”
I ‘love’ the message, and before I can think of what to say back, Gun says, “Here she is,” and I slide my phone back into my pocket.
My eyes flicker back to the screens. All our nervousness was evident when we dropped her off before we left her to get an Uber. But now, Callie carries herself with unnatural grace and poise. Her head is held high, her hips sway effortlessly, and she doesn’t stumble once in her stilettos even as she navigates the crowded bar and sudden movements of half-drunken patrons around her who are paying no attention to their surroundings.
As Callie passes by Hati on his barstool, with his dark hair and fitted but nondescript suit, the two show no signs of recognition, even as Hati gives her an appraising look along with a few of the other single men at the bar.
Her head lifts even further; she’s seen him. She knows she is not alone. A knot in my stomach loosens. He blends in well, nursing a Boulevardier, playing his part perfectly.
Although he’s a good-looking man, he manages to work his body language so that the women around him hardly give him a second glance. Goddess, he’s a master.
Callie’s goal tonight is simple—make herself a target, draw out anyone who seems too interested, anyone who might fit the killer’s profile. We don’t have much to go on, but we know this guy likes to watch, to hunt his victims when they think they’re safe.
Stopping around the side of the bar, Callie captures the bartender’s attention within moments and orders a drink. It doesn’t take long for the bartender to hand her a glass of champagne, refusing her money and pointing to a man at the other end of the bar.
My shoulders tighten, but Callie does not approach. She raises her glass toward the man with a smile, takes a small sip, and then disappears back into the crowd. The man at the bar doesn’t look disappointed either.
This game seems to be his forte, and they’ve only exchanged the first moves. His hair is perfectly coiffed, and his suit looks like it’s been custom-made. A glass of champagne costs nothing to him. I linger on him for a moment.
He pays for another beautiful woman’s drink, this time a redhead, and he approaches her right away. The moment the two start talking, my eyes flicker back into the rest of the bar crowd, spotting Callie quickly as she rests against the wall, surveying the crowd for herself.
“Have you noticed anything out of place yet?” I ask Gunnolf.
“Too soon to say for sure,” he mutters, eyes scanning the patrons. “But that guy by the bathroom’s been staring at her for a while now.”
I shift forward, studying the screen more closely. Sure enough, a guy is leaning against the wall near the back, half in shadow, watching Callie like a hawk. My jaw tightens. He’s handsome in a sort of frat guy way, but there’s something sinister in his aura.
“That’s our first hit,” Gun says, making a note and taking a screenshot of the monitor, sending the photo off to Minna for an ID. “Something is off about him, but that doesn’t mean he’s our killer. He could be your run-of-the-mill creep.”
“True. I don’t think our guys got the looks this one does, but we could be wrong about that in our profile.”
Callie looks in the man’s direction, and he licks his lips, giving a half smile that goes unreturned.
“Minna’s texted back already. This guy’s name is Jimmy Barlow. He has a great credit score and a few drunk and disorderly ones in his past. He’s a renter, not a homeowner, and most certainly the recipient of a trust fund. Lives in a penthouse in the center of downtown.”
“Doesn’t sound like our guy.”
“No, it doesn’t, but I don’t like how he’s looking at Callie right now,” Gun says, jaw tightening.
“I don’t like it either.”
Callie moves from her position against the wall and struts over to the opposite side of the bar, careful not to be distracted by her phone as she passes the man staring at her. He doesn’t follow her after she passes by; instead, he turns his body, keeping his eyes locked on her. My stomach churns, a familiar anger bubbling up inside of me.
This bastard is waiting, lurking, watching. He might not be our killer, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t a danger.
Hati’s noticed him as well. He’s perched in such a way on his stool that he can hop up in an instant. “I’m on him,” Hati says into the comm.
I grit my teeth, tension pulling at my every nerve. I can’t say why; he’s not the only one who has had his eyes on her since she arrived, but my gut tells me this guy is bad news.
It’s taking every ounce of self-control to keep my wolf from busting out, my claws pressing at the inside of my skin. I also have to remind myself to pay attention to the others in the bar.
The security guards—three of them tonight—seem oblivious to the stalker in the wings, more focused on the more obvious concerns of the moment. I can see why our unsub likes this place.
The minutes stretch on like hours and nothing happens. Another man buys Callie a drink from the bar. She thanks him, and the two chat briefly before she starts on her next lap around the bar.
Then it happens.
Callie heads toward the back of the bar, where the crowd is thinner, and the guy follows her. He moves quickly, slinking through the shadows. Just outside the bathroom, he corners her, saying something too low for me to pick up through the microphone in her necklace.
Callie shakes her head no and laughs, trying to shake him off. But the man doesn’t take no for an answer. My heart rate spikes as the creep grabs Callie by her arm, his other arm lingering on her waist. She stiffens —Torn between taking this man down and possibly blowing her cover or trying to navigate this more cautiously.
“Hati—” I bark into the mic, but he’s already halfway there.
When the guy tries to pull Callie further into the hallway, Hati steps in between them like a wall. The creep doesn’t even have time to react before he’s hauled back through the back hallway into the alley.
Hati has him pinned against the wall in a matter of seconds, his tall and muscular frame making the frat boy look like a small child beside him. My eyes flicker back to Callie, brushing herself off and rearranging her dress. “Thanks, Hati. I’m fine. I’ll stay.”
My eyes snap to the screen. “Callie, are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” She cuts off any protest I might have. “If there’s anything else to find, I’ll know.”
“Did anyone notice that situation with the man and Hati?” I asked Gun, realizing I haven’t paid enough attention in the first place.
“Luckily, no,” Gun says.
“Guys, can someone take care of this chump so I can get back in there and keep an eye out for Callie?” Hati says through the comm.
Goddess, I’m far too rattled and need to get it together.
“On it,” Gun says, hops out of the van, and shuts the door behind himself. Hati hauls ass back into the bar the moment the frat boy changes from his hands to Guns.
Gun exchanges words with the frat boy, but his mic is turned off so I can focus back on Callie and Hati inside.
Hati’s taken up a spot at the bar again, although every seat was full moments before. His posture’s too relaxed for what he’s feeling—he’s not fooling anyone who knows him. But he trusts Callie’s instincts, and for now, so do I.
I trust Gun to deal with the frat boy, there’s no way he’s going home tonight. I don’t care if he’s our guy or not, he will pay for harassing Callie. Guys like him sometimes need to learn lessons the hard way and this one’s going to leave a record.
After about fifteen minutes Gun hands the guy off to a uniform officer and steps back into the van, “I’ve got a voice recording just in case but I’m pretty sure this guys just an entitled rich kid who has never taken the word no for an answer in his life.”
“I’m going to step out and give her a call. You got eyes on Callie?”
“I do.”