A Perfect Storm
Page 10
“They could know where she lives, the places she frequents. She could get grabbed right off the street.” Trace gave him a long look. “Unfortunately, it happens all the time.”
Which was why he wanted to protect her. “I have no choice but to get involved.”
“No choice at all.” Trace considered things. “Give me the name of the place and the location.”
“The Green Goose, in downtown Middleville.”
Expression arrested, Trace said, “Shit.”
“What? You’re aware of something going on in there?”
It took him a second, and then Trace laughed. “She’s got great instincts, I’ll give her that.”
It hit Spencer like a ton of bricks. “She’s right about the place, isn’t she?”
“Afraid so. Luckily for your peace of mind, we were already on it. Early stages, though. Dare was running background checks on the owners, and I was planning a visit so I could scope out things from within.”
“Arizona’s already done that.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose, but Trace had to know it all. “She says she sat at a table, and when a kid came to take her order, she noticed some bruises, what looked like a broken finger that hadn’t been set right, and the boy wouldn’t look her in the eyes. Probably not more than sixteen, though of course his age would be fudged.”
Anger gathered in Trace’s expression, but he sounded calm enough when he said, “I wish we’d moved on this sooner, damn it.”
But they couldn’t be everywhere at once, and cruelty existed far and wide, all the time. “When the boy brought her food, Arizona asked if it was a good place to work. She told him she was looking for a job.”
“The boy’s reaction?”
“He couldn’t or wouldn’t tell her what they made per hour.”
Grim, Trace said, “Because he’s not getting paid.”
“That’s Arizona’s assumption. Around a lot of stammering and nervousness, the boy pointed out the man to talk to if she wanted to work there. Arizona said he’s a tall, skinny guy, mid-forties, thinning brown hair, brown eyes, goatee, earring, some sort of colorful tribal tattoo on his left arm. From what she could find out, he’s the owner of the place.”
“Terry Janes.” Trace crossed his arms. “Did some time when he was younger for peddling drugs, been in more trouble a handful of times for robbery, breaking and entering, suspected rape. He had a charge for beating a guy half to death, but that fell through the cracks. No way is he the owner.”
God, it sounded worse than Spencer had suspected. “Later that night, Arizona kept watch on the place and only a few of the employees left. Janes, his bartender, his bouncer—just key people, I guess. He locked the door behind him. It’s a shitty part of town, so bars on the windows make sense, but in this case—”
“They’re there to keep the workers in.” After a moment of thought, Trace leaned forward, arms resting on the table. “Please tell me that Arizona hasn’t talked to him.”
That was the only good news in the whole screwed scenario. “She says not, but she told the boy she’d be back tomorrow night—and she’s pretty sure the guy overheard it all.”
“Which was probably intentional on her part?”
“I assume so.”
Trace shook his head. “So now they’ll be watching for her.”
“You met Arizona. That’s her plan.” Disgust rolled through him; he hated her plan. “She wants them to know, to make a move, so she can expose them.”
“At least she had the good sense to come to you for backup.” Trace pulled out his cell phone. “Where’s Arizona now?”
“At this precise moment? No idea.” And that was a problem, because it would take Arizona no more than a minute to get in over her head. When he couldn’t see her, he worried about what she was doing, if she was safe.
He wondered if she thought about him even half as much as he thought about her.
It’d be nice to claim that altruistic motives drove him. But that wouldn’t be the whole truth, and he knew it.
He glanced at his wristwatch. “She’s coming by my place in a few hours so we can coordinate plans for tomorrow.”
“Coordinating plans was the best you could come up with?”
Spencer shrugged. That had been the only excuse he could think of to gain himself time enough to talk to Trace—and to get a cake for her birthday.
Trace said, “Whatever you call it, get her to stay overnight with you, and keep her under wraps until she heads to the Green Goose.”
No and no again. “How the hell am I supposed to do that?” And not touch her?
“I don’t know. Find a way. Tell her you need to go over the rules with her.”
Or just go over her. Spencer shook his head. “You think that’ll take the whole night?”
“Guess that depends on how you drag it out, doesn’t it?”
Spencer didn’t miss the suggestion. But Trace had to be kidding. With a hand to the back of his neck, Spencer tried to rub away the growing tension. “The thing is, Arizona’s…skittish.”
What an understatement. Arizona was all brass and bravado, until someone showed intimate interest. Then her survival reaction of fight, flight or freeze kicked in.
So far, with him, she always chose to fight.
And every time it happened, the vise on his heart squeezed a little tighter. He had a plan to help her with that. A masochistic plan that was sure to make him nuts, but for Arizona…
Which was why he wanted to protect her. “I have no choice but to get involved.”
“No choice at all.” Trace considered things. “Give me the name of the place and the location.”
“The Green Goose, in downtown Middleville.”
Expression arrested, Trace said, “Shit.”
“What? You’re aware of something going on in there?”
It took him a second, and then Trace laughed. “She’s got great instincts, I’ll give her that.”
It hit Spencer like a ton of bricks. “She’s right about the place, isn’t she?”
“Afraid so. Luckily for your peace of mind, we were already on it. Early stages, though. Dare was running background checks on the owners, and I was planning a visit so I could scope out things from within.”
“Arizona’s already done that.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose, but Trace had to know it all. “She says she sat at a table, and when a kid came to take her order, she noticed some bruises, what looked like a broken finger that hadn’t been set right, and the boy wouldn’t look her in the eyes. Probably not more than sixteen, though of course his age would be fudged.”
Anger gathered in Trace’s expression, but he sounded calm enough when he said, “I wish we’d moved on this sooner, damn it.”
But they couldn’t be everywhere at once, and cruelty existed far and wide, all the time. “When the boy brought her food, Arizona asked if it was a good place to work. She told him she was looking for a job.”
“The boy’s reaction?”
“He couldn’t or wouldn’t tell her what they made per hour.”
Grim, Trace said, “Because he’s not getting paid.”
“That’s Arizona’s assumption. Around a lot of stammering and nervousness, the boy pointed out the man to talk to if she wanted to work there. Arizona said he’s a tall, skinny guy, mid-forties, thinning brown hair, brown eyes, goatee, earring, some sort of colorful tribal tattoo on his left arm. From what she could find out, he’s the owner of the place.”
“Terry Janes.” Trace crossed his arms. “Did some time when he was younger for peddling drugs, been in more trouble a handful of times for robbery, breaking and entering, suspected rape. He had a charge for beating a guy half to death, but that fell through the cracks. No way is he the owner.”
God, it sounded worse than Spencer had suspected. “Later that night, Arizona kept watch on the place and only a few of the employees left. Janes, his bartender, his bouncer—just key people, I guess. He locked the door behind him. It’s a shitty part of town, so bars on the windows make sense, but in this case—”
“They’re there to keep the workers in.” After a moment of thought, Trace leaned forward, arms resting on the table. “Please tell me that Arizona hasn’t talked to him.”
That was the only good news in the whole screwed scenario. “She says not, but she told the boy she’d be back tomorrow night—and she’s pretty sure the guy overheard it all.”
“Which was probably intentional on her part?”
“I assume so.”
Trace shook his head. “So now they’ll be watching for her.”
“You met Arizona. That’s her plan.” Disgust rolled through him; he hated her plan. “She wants them to know, to make a move, so she can expose them.”
“At least she had the good sense to come to you for backup.” Trace pulled out his cell phone. “Where’s Arizona now?”
“At this precise moment? No idea.” And that was a problem, because it would take Arizona no more than a minute to get in over her head. When he couldn’t see her, he worried about what she was doing, if she was safe.
He wondered if she thought about him even half as much as he thought about her.
It’d be nice to claim that altruistic motives drove him. But that wouldn’t be the whole truth, and he knew it.
He glanced at his wristwatch. “She’s coming by my place in a few hours so we can coordinate plans for tomorrow.”
“Coordinating plans was the best you could come up with?”
Spencer shrugged. That had been the only excuse he could think of to gain himself time enough to talk to Trace—and to get a cake for her birthday.
Trace said, “Whatever you call it, get her to stay overnight with you, and keep her under wraps until she heads to the Green Goose.”
No and no again. “How the hell am I supposed to do that?” And not touch her?
“I don’t know. Find a way. Tell her you need to go over the rules with her.”
Or just go over her. Spencer shook his head. “You think that’ll take the whole night?”
“Guess that depends on how you drag it out, doesn’t it?”
Spencer didn’t miss the suggestion. But Trace had to be kidding. With a hand to the back of his neck, Spencer tried to rub away the growing tension. “The thing is, Arizona’s…skittish.”
What an understatement. Arizona was all brass and bravado, until someone showed intimate interest. Then her survival reaction of fight, flight or freeze kicked in.
So far, with him, she always chose to fight.
And every time it happened, the vise on his heart squeezed a little tighter. He had a plan to help her with that. A masochistic plan that was sure to make him nuts, but for Arizona…
