Debra Webb - Striking Distance

As they neared downtown, traffic appeared, which facilitated her ability to duplicate Seth’s turns without the risk of detection. Since she’d never visited Chicago before this assignment, she didn’t know the name of the area he selected for his middle-of-the-night cruise. But it didn’t take her long to recognize he was headed toward the seedier side of town.

Block after block of adult-entertainment joints, hole-in-the-wall newsstands, pawnshops, dive bars and the occasional sleazy-looking motel. The heavy flow of pedestrian traffic made it look like a Saturday night on Bourbon Street in New Orleans rather than a plain old weeknight in the low-rent section of Chicago.

He pulled over to the curb, and Tasha did the same. From her vantage point a block behind him and parked between two other vehicles, she watched a hooker approach the passenger side of his SUV. Since he’d passed at least a dozen in the past three blocks, she could only assume that he’d decided this one suited his taste.

Try as she might to watch the scene evolving before her with cold, clinical objectivity, a mixture of rage and something she wasn’t prepared to label seethed inside her. He wanted someone he could control, someone who would play the game his way.

Seth eased away from the curb, drove to the end of the block and turned into a small parking area. Seconds later he approached the woman waiting outside an adult entertainment club. He followed her inside.

Tasha, wishing like hell she had her weapon, fished for her cell phone. She had to let Maverick know where she was. She might not be thinking as clearly as she should, but she wasn’t completely stupid. According to the display, she’d missed three calls. Oh, yeah, Maverick would be pissed. With the phone set on vibrate there had been no ring. “Dammit.” Even worse, she had no signal now. No signal. How could she be in a city this large and not get a signal?

“Hell with it.” She tossed the phone to the passenger seat and emerged from her car. Her senses on full alert she started in the direction of the club. She ignored the comments tossed her way by the men, as well as the women, she passed along the way. At least she was dressed to fit in.

The club Seth had entered was a narrow two-story building sandwiched between a pawnshop and a sleazy restaurant that was closed for the night. No bouncers waited at the entrance to check for weapons or to stamp her hand. Management apparently had a lax door policy. No surprise there.

Inside, music blared and multicolored lights flashed and throbbed in sync with the rhythm. Tasha surveyed the crowded room, careful to stay in the shadow of the tight clutch of weirdos hanging near the entrance. Seth and his hooker were nowhere in the throng. Tasha peered beyond the masses enjoying lap dances and watching porn videos on the array of wall-mounted screens, her gaze locked onto a dimly lit corridor and set of stairs on the opposite side of the club. She moved in that direction.

“You got an appointment?”

The male voice halted her in her tracks, and she glanced over to the man standing at the end of the battle-scarred bar. The numerous body piercings and tattoos did little to enhance his thin, haggard frame.

She smiled flirtatiously and leaned on the counter to look up at him. “Do I need one?”

He jerked his head in the direction of the corridor marked Employees Only. “You do if you’re going in there.” He looked her up and down when she stood back and adopted a put-upon expression.

She reached into her purse and withdrew the wad of cash Seth had dropped in there earlier. “I only want to watch.”

The bottom feeder behind the counter grinned grotesquely. “Baby, this’ll buy you just about anything we have to offer.” He flexed his bare, tattooed arms as he braced against the counter and leaned forward. “Including me.”

How could she resist? she thought loathingly. “As tempting as that sounds,” she lied, “there’s something else I need to do first. A big guy, blond hair, dark glasses came in here a couple minutes ago with a redhead.”

He nodded to the corridor again. “Last door on the left upstairs.”

She gave him a million-dollar smile that suggested a promise she definitely didn’t intend to keep. “Thanks.”

Tasha pushed through the crowd and made her way up to the second floor. Nine doors lined the dark corridor, most were partially open, offering glimpses of sexual depravity involving whips and chains and parties of three. The music still thumped loudly, adding a sick score to the nefarious acts taking place.

She slowed as she came nearer to the final door. Like the others it stood slightly ajar. A warning blaring in her skull, she eased into the entryway, allowing the door to shield her to an extent. She peeked into the room, telling herself that she just needed to know what he was up to. But that was a lie. This had nothing to do with her mission...this was personal. She knew it, but the realization didn’t stop her. She had to know. Had to see.

Swaying provocatively the woman undressed in front of him. Tasha watched his unchanging profile as the hooker gave it all she had without eliciting the first visible reaction from the man. Completely naked, her body pressing close to his, she reached for him, but he pushed her hands away. Yet something passed between them. He hadn’t spoken, Tasha was sure of that. The hooker must have seen some indication in his eyes of what he wanted.

She knelt in front of him, her red hair swishing around her shoulders as she moved her upper body brazenly, showing off her large breasts. Taking her time, to draw out the tension, she unfastened his jeans. First the single button at his waist, then slowly, ever so slowly, she lowered the zipper of his fly.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.