When he got to the part where Faith asked her mother, “Who was that?” he stopped and backtracked to listen again. On the third attempt he could make out the male voice in the background and the threat he’d issued. Samuels. It had to be.
He listened on and flinched at the raw emotion in Faith’s voice, her low sobs as they filtered into the quiet night air around him. He now knew without a doubt that there was no way Faith was a willing participant in any plan Celia Martin and Samuels had hatched.
It was telling how relieved he was, but it also made him uneasy that he was deceiving an innocent woman. She was being used by her mother, and she was being used by him.
Fuck.
He stuffed the recorder into his desk and locked it. Then he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the polished wooden surface. He ran both hands through his hair and closed his eyes in frustration.
Was her mother on her way here? Would she exploit the fact that Pop had paid her off in the past? And would she even bother involving Faith, or would she use Pop’s desire to protect Faith against him?
Hell of a mess. So many lives involved. And justice was at the heart of the whole cluster fuck. Alex was dead. His killer had to pay.
The end justified the means. If Alex’s killer was put away, all of this would be worth it. Even Faith’s anger.
If he was truly convinced of this, why then did guilt weigh so heavy on him? Why did he picture Faith’s sweet smile, remember the feel of her skin against his, her lips on his? And why did he want more?
It was stupid and foolhardy to initiate any sort of romantic entanglement with her. He snorted. Romantic? Who said anything about romantic? Last he checked, wanting to fuck a woman’s brains out wasn’t construed as romance.
He had a lot of thinking to do. He needed to call Mick so together they could come up with the best plan of action. Gray still wasn’t convinced that he and Mick were handling this just right, but with Billings brushing them off and not devoting the resources necessary to bring Alex’s killer to justice, Gray didn’t see that they had a lot of choice in the matter.
He shoved back from his desk, stood, then headed for the door. As he passed Faith’s office, he halted and backtracked. He may as well make sure the tap was still securely in place in case the mother called again.
Moving swiftly, he walked around her desk in the darkness and turned on the small desk light so he could see. He examined her phone and made sure everything was to his satisfaction. Then he made sure everything on her desk was as he’d found it. His gaze flickered across her open day planner as he reached for the button on the light.
His hand stilled, and he pulled it away as he read the entry circled in red. The House. 11:00 P.M. Friday night. It was written on today’s date, and below was an address in north Houston.
The name was familiar to him, and he searched his memory for why. He could swear it was the name of the kink club Micah had gone on about one day over lunch. But why on earth would Faith be making plans to visit if they were one and the same?
He opened her drawer and yanked out a pen and a piece of paper from a notepad. He scribbled the address down then closed the drawer again. After turning the light off, he hurried back to his own office where he turned his computer on.
He drummed his fingers impatiently as he waited for it to boot. As soon as the screen lit up with his desktop icons, he clicked on the browser and went to a search engine page.
There, he typed in the name and address he’d lifted from Faith’s planner and waited for the results. When he clicked on the first link, he bit out a curse. Faith’s house and Micah’s were one and the same. Somehow Gray knew that Faith wasn’t a regular member, because surely that wouldn’t have escaped Micah’s notice.
What the fuck was she doing making an appointment at a freaking kink club? Did she not have a clue what went on there? Hell, he’d never set foot in the place, but the things Micah had talked about were more than enough to paint a vivid picture in Gray’s mind of what happened behind those big wrought-iron gates.
Which could only mean she had no idea what she was getting into. And the idea of another man putting his hands on her made him feel slightly murderous. He didn’t even want to get into the whys and wherefores of that particular quirk.
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” Gray muttered. “Get a grip.”
He ought to call Pop and let him or Connor deal with it. But as quickly as that thought popped into his head, he tossed it aside. He wasn’t a kid busting a gut to run and tattle, for God’s sake. Faith was a grown woman. Maybe she was doing a little experimenting. No need to embarrass her by having her brother haul her out of the place.
Which left him. No way he could let her walk into that kind of situation. She was sweet. Far too innocent for the likes of what a place like The House offered its patrons. Shit, knowing his luck, she’d end up as someone’s damn sex slave for the night.
That thought propelled him to his feet. He was out the door in a few seconds. He fumbled with the security codes on his way out before he strode out to the parking lot and his truck.
He flipped open his cell phone and punched in Micah’s number. The damn club was exclusive, and he couldn’t get in without Micah’s help. Hell, he might not get in anyway. But he’d damn sure see if could.
He tried Micah’s home number and his cell without any luck. Growling in frustration, he stepped on the accelerator and headed toward the apartment complex.
When he whipped into the parking lot a few minutes later, he saw Micah’s truck parked outside his unit. Faith was already gone.
He hopped out of the truck and hurried up to Micah’s door. He knocked loudly and waited. When Micah didn’t immediately come to the door, he pounded harder.
A few seconds later, the door jerked open, and Micah stood in the doorway holding a towel around his waist. He glared at Gray. “This better be damn good, Montgomery.”
Before Gray could respond, he heard a female voice in the background ask Micah who it was. Micah turned and held out a placating hand. “Give me just one minute, babe.”
Gray sighed. Interrupting Micah during sex couldn’t be all that uncommon, considering the guy had a girl over every other day. He didn’t have time for this shit.
Micah turned around to stare at him again, his scowl ferocious. “Now what the fuck do you want?” he demanded.
“I need you to get me into The House or whatever the fuck it is you call it.”
Micah blinked several times. His mouth popped open, and a look of incredulity spread over his features. “You came over here at eleven damn o’clock at night because you’ve got an itch you want to scratch?”
“Not me, dumb-ass. Apparently Faith has an appointment there. As we speak.”
Micah’s expression rapidly changed from annoyance to sharp interest. He held up his hand. “Whoa. Wait a minute. Faith is going to The House?”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you,” Gray said impatiently. “Is there any way you can get me in? Pull some strings or something?”
Micah ignored Gray’s question and shook his head in confusion. “What the fuck is she doing going there? That’s no place for a girl like her.”
Gray threw up his hands and growled in frustration.
“Okay, okay, look,” Micah said, holding both hands up in appeasement. “Let me get dressed. I’ll head over there to see what the fuck is going on.”
“No.”
Micah looked up in surprise.
“I’ll go. You just get me in there,” Gray said emphatically. “Besides, you’ve got company to entertain. I’ll take care of Faith.”
Micah gave him a long, assessing look. His eyes narrowed, and he frowned. “What the hell is going on between you and Faith?”
Gray sighed. They were wasting a hell of a lot of time. “Nothing is going on between me and Faith. I was just concerned when I learned where she was going. I don’t think she has a clue what she’s getting into. I don’t want to see her get hurt.”
“On that we agree,” Micah said. “You head over there. Do you know where it is?”
Gray nodded.
“Okay, you go. I’ll call over and arrange for you to get in. I’m good friends with the guy who owns it.”
Gray turned without responding and hurried back out to his truck. He felt a little foolish making such a big deal out of this, and he’d risked looking an even bigger fool by coming over to Micah’s like this, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that Faith was in way over her head.
CHAPTER 14
Faith pulled up to the gate guarding the driveway to the large house looming up the hill. When she drew abreast of the small security box, she rolled down her window and leaned out to push the button.
“Can I help you?” a polite voice inquired.
She breathed in nervously. “I have an appointment. My name is Faith Malone.”
“Please proceed, Miss Malone.”
The gate slowly swung open, and she started forward, accelerating up the winding lane. When she pulled up to the house, she saw a secluded parking lot, not visible from the entrance. A large brick wall covered with ivy separated the lot from the sprawling front lawn.
She drove around the partition and eased into a parking spot beside a sleek Mercedes. As she got out and surveyed the array of very expensive cars, she glanced self-consciously back at her Honda Accord.
What kind of people gathered here? Were they all rich, bored types looking for cheap thrills?
“Nothing like making sweeping generalizations,” she muttered as she headed for the double wooden doors ahead.
Before she could raise the heavy knocker, the door swung open, and she found herself staring at a good-looking, well-dressed man. Okay, not just good-looking, but very good-looking.
He smiled broadly at her. “You must be Faith.” He held his hand out to her. “I’m Damon.”
She took his hand, shook it and smiled in return. She felt some of her nervousness dissipate. “I’m so glad to meet you. I feel as though I know you with all the e-mails we’ve exchanged in the last week.”
He chuckled then gestured for her to enter. “Please, come in.”
She walked in ahead of him and paused, waiting for him to go in front of her. The foyer was elegantly decorated, the lighting dim enough to make the interior look warm and inviting but not so dark as to give off a sinister aura.
Damon walked up beside her and placed a hand to her back. “If you’ll come this way, our first stop will be the sitting room where you can relax for a moment and have a drink.”
He ushered her into a smaller room just beyond the foyer. The inside was classy yet comfortable. A large Oriental rug stretched across highly polished wood floors, ending just in front of a dark brown leather couch. To the right sat two overstuffed casual chairs, the kind that would swallow you up whole as soon as you sat down.
“Why don’t you have a seat. Would you care for a glass of wine?”
Faith nodded and started toward one of those comfy-looking chairs.
“By the way, I like what you decided to wear very much.”
She turned around, her cheeks heating as she saw his gaze slide up and down her bare legs. Damon’s lips lifted in a half smile before he walked over to the wall and pressed a button on what looked to be an intercom system.
She glanced down at the form-fitting skirt that clipped her legs about two inches above her knee. The shoes, well, she had to admit, they were purely for show. In a moment of pure weakness, she’d spent a hell of a lot of money on the sex-on-a-sole shoes.
But they made her feel sexy, vibrant and a little bad. Okay, a whole lot bad. With a tiny grin, she sank into the soft leather chair and forced herself to relax.
Damon joined her a few seconds later. Moments after he sat down on the couch across from her chair, the door opened, and a man who looked every bit the butler out of some stodgy English movie walked in carrying a serving tray.
He bent and offered her one of the crystal flutes. Her eyes widened, and she smiled at the oh-so-proper man. She was only a little disappointed that he didn’t have a British accent.
She took a glass and lifted it to her nose to inhale the aroma of the wine. The butler offered Damon a glass next then inclined his head toward Faith and retreated from the room.
“I’m guessing most of your clients are higher end,” Faith said before sipping the wine.
Damon chuckled. “It’s all about appearances. If you want to attract the right clientele, you have to establish yourself on their level.”
“You certainly dress the part,” she said dryly, her gaze moving up and down his expensive silk shirt and designer slacks.
He smiled lazily at her. “Are you comfortable here?”
She blinked at his sudden change of topic. After a moment’s thought, she realized she wasn’t nearly as nervous as she had been. But then this was probably part of the game plan. Ply the potential member with booze until they were too soused to worry about what they were getting into.