Bounty Hunters: 03 Stay Hungry (16 page)

A crazy thought struck Mario as he stroked his
puttana
's smooth tanned arm. She pushed her full lips into a puckered pout and continued staring at him.

"
Puttana
, tell me your name."

"Marianna Torres," she said, and blinked again.

Chapter Eight

Jake stifled a yawn. He never bothered counting how many times he'd leaned against the side of a building, waiting for something to happen. It was well after midnight, and he wasn't sure what he expected. He hoped nothing. This was the best way he knew to learn the battleground, though. If all went well, he'd return to the hotel and draw a diagram of Mario Mandela's property, highlighting areas where Jake could get on and off the property without detection.

As locked up as the place appeared, it wasn't that hard getting over and past the tall iron fence. After driving around Mario's property on narrow blacktop roads, Jake had slowed near the front of the house in time to see a long black limousine enter through the black gate and head to the house.

There were cameras along the roof of the house, and Jake doubted they were fake. He'd been loitering next to a large outbuilding behind the mansion but didn't want to risk stepping into the line of fire. The cameras might pick him up, and Jake hadn't ruled out the possibility that other security might exist, too.

All he'd determined so far was that he could get over the fence from the backyard without being detected and that standing alongside the back of the outbuilding appeared fairly safe. He needed to push further, determine a safe route to the house. It was his job as backup to have a viable route in and out of there if necessary.

Jake kept his back against the building as he moved sideways, repeatedly glancing from side to side to make sure no one approached. Perspiration trickled down his neck and back as his nerves grew hyper-sensitive to any sound around him. By the time Jake reached the front of the outbuilding he swore he could hear the breeze brush over every blade of grass in the yard.

He put to memory each tree and shrub around him. He made a mental pattern of the row of windows on the first and second floors of the huge, rambling home. Jake glanced down the length of the building and also studied a large wooden patio that spread across most of the back of the house. There were floodlights on the corner at either end of the house that appeared motion sensitive. Where he stood, though, was shrouded in darkness. Motion-sensitive lights weren't around the entire property, just next to the house. The two lights attached to the house didn't quite reach each other. Unless those cameras fixed at the edge of the roof were equipped with night vision, Jake would be safe as long as he remained in the dark shadows looming around the yard and house.

If the cameras could pick up movement in the dark, someone would have detected him by now. Mario Mandela was cocky enough not to use the most sophisticated monitoring system. That or the cameras came with the house, since Mario was renting, and possibly had only simple features. There might be monitors inside that could be viewed, and possibly Mario had employees who kept an eye on them. The guards would see only what the quality of the cameras allowed them to see.

There were bristly bushes along the wall against the front of the building. They didn't stand as tall as Jake but were a foot or so from the steel siding. Jake stepped away from the building, taking in the heavy-looking door that appeared to be the only entrance. A structure this size could store a hell of a lot. Or if the person who lived inside the elaborate mansion was involved in shady, criminal activity, this building would be perfectly suited to hide his criminal activities.

It would especially suit to hide people who'd been kidnapped and possibly drugged. Jake's heart started racing even faster. He kept a tentative eye on the house and sliding glass doors leading inside at the other end of the patio as he moved toward the entrance of the outbuilding.

There was an expensive-looking security panel next to the outbuilding's entrance with a number pad on it. A password was required to enter the building. Adrenaline peaked inside him, making it damn hard to stand still.

With such an expensive-looking security pad installed next to the door, Jake would bet cold, hard cash the people Mario kidnapped and would force to play in the game were inside this building. All Jake needed was proof.

A small voice in the back of his head reminded him he was here to ensure safe passage on and off of this property so he could properly protect Angela. He was doing that. But if while here he could pick up a solid lead or two, he wouldn't turn down the opportunity.

Someone whistled and Jake almost choked on his heart when it swelled into his throat. He lunged behind the prickly bush, moving to a squatting position as he stared wide-eyed into the darkness. Annoying thorns scraped his bare arms and tugged at his shirt. Jake would endure the minor aggravation to prevent being discovered. If whoever whistled had seen him, he would need a damn good reason for sneaking around back here, or he would have to attack and blow his cover. Either way, the situation just went from exhilarating to dangerous and deadly. Jake might have to seriously injure or kill whoever was out here in order to return to the street safely.

Every muscle in Jake's body cramped while he remained frozen, only his eyes moving frantically as he searched the yard. The person whistled again, this time carrying a soft tune while walking across the yard. Jake watched the shadow take form and studied the tall, lanky blond male as he sauntered across the wooden deck and into the yard. The man wore jeans and a T-shirt, was possibly in his early thirties, with hair that once might have been buzzed short and appeared to be growing out.

Jake continued putting the man to memory, guessing him to be around six feet and under two hundred pounds. The man reached the outbuilding and stopped at the door. He pressed buttons on the keypad. It was dark and Jake couldn't swear by it, but he thought the man pushed four buttons on the keypad. There was a solid beep and the man reached for the handle. The door opened into the building.

For a moment the yard was flooded with light. "I found boxes and sorted through everything," the man offered cheerfully before the door closed behind him.

Which meant there was someone else already inside the outbuilding. Not that Jake hadn't already guessed there were probably a handful of prisoners in there. But the blond guy had reported in to someone, letting them know he'd finished some task that involved sorting. Mario might be in there.

Jake swallowed the lump in his throat and took his time straightening. He wasn't as young as he used to be. This line of business took its toll on a body fast. His muscles stretched and threatened to cramp when he took a second to arch his back and press the balls of his hands against his lower back. It was more than likely time to get the hell out of Dodge. He'd laid out a good feel for the property and would be a lot more comfortable the next time Angela came here. Before he left, though, there was one more thing he wanted to do.

Many brand-name security pads possessed the same type of ten-key pad. They also often came with a precoded password that many people didn't bother to change. Jake crept along the front of the building, continually casting a watchful eye over his shoulder and toward the house until he reached the door to the outbuilding. The security pad was a common brand name Jake had seen many times before. It was one of the secrets of his trade, but quite often Web sites for these keypads had manuals on them that could be downloaded. The manual might say what the preprogrammed password for the lock would be.

* * *

It was almost midnight when Jake got out of the shower. Digging through his suitcase, he pulled out clean jeans and a T-shirt. His stomach growled and food sounded really good but so did sleep. There were a few good years left before he needed to worry seriously about all the crap he put into his system. Jake wasn't a fanatic when it came to watching his health. He didn't smoke, didn't drink all that often, and for a man under thirty he figured he had at least a few more years of eating when he wanted and keeping odd hours.

Jake grabbed his phone, punching in the numbers as he headed out of his hotel room. It might be late, but there were things to discuss and figure out. "No rest for the wicked," he said under his breath as Angela's phone rang in his ear. A lady who didn't have some sappy love song as her ringtone. That said something about her character right there.

"Where are you?" Angela sounded like she was whispering when she answered, her soft, raspy voice making him think he might have woken her.

Images of her lying naked under sheets with all that long, thick black hair tumbling over her bare shoulders as she rolled over on her pillow, her cheeks flushed, got him hard as hell by the time he reached the elevator.

"I'm going to be in your room in seconds."

"Like hell! It's too late." It sounded as if she tumbled out of bed.

Jake stifled a grin as he pushed the button to take him to the lobby. "Meet me at the bookstore. Opposite corner this time. Go to the second booth." He ended the call, not giving her time to refuse his location.

Regardless of what Angela might think, the bookstore was a perfect meeting place. Sometimes the seediest of locations were the safest. Especially when their perpetrator was a high-class criminal. Mario would turn green with envy if he were to learn Jake planned on spending time with Angela in a private booth in an adult bookstore watching porn. Hell, Jake couldn't wait. Maybe all the booty calls had grown old, but getting kinky with a hot lady during a peep show would never turn him off. Not as long as he could breathe.

"How do you keep your hours?" Jake grinned at the nighttime doorman, Albert.

Albert Rodney ran his vein-covered bony hands down the front of his black tuxedo jacket and nodded formally to Jake. Although Rodney had to be close to seventy, with greased-back silver hair that offered the impression the man hadn't found a hairstyle that suited him since the fifties, he was sharp and formidable. A good ally to have. Jake bet very little slipped past the old man who stood at the main entrance appearing unobtrusive.

"Where else would I be paid so well to do absolutely nothing and be able to flirt shamelessly with beautiful ladies?" Albert extended his hand, making a show of holding open the automatic door that wouldn't close even if Albert were to move his hand. "What I want to know is why one of them isn't on your arm, sir?"

"What did I tell you about that 'sir' crap?" Jake said, keeping his voice low. He hadn't narrowed down who was the night manager yet and didn't want to get Albert in trouble. Pulling a five out of his jeans pocket, Jake slipped it to the doorman. "And trust me, Albert. I plan on having a lady on my arm really soon."

"I have all the faith in the world, Jake," Albert said, lowering his voice toward the end of his sentence.

"Same here." Jake offered Albert his classic crooked smile, and the old man winked at him. "Tell me something."

"What's that, Jake?"

"You know who Angela is, don't you? A young lady about my age with long black hair?"

"How could anyone not notice such a beautiful creature?" Albert spoke in awe, his cool, serene tone educated, with just a clip of an eastern accent to it. "Miss Angela is a rare gem. If you don't mind me saying."

"I agree completely." Jake reached into his back pocket, grabbing the doorman's attention immediately. He kept his attention on Albert's face as he watched Jake's movements when he pulled out his wallet and removed one of his business cards. "This is just between you and me, okay?"

Albert lifted one of his bushy gray eyebrows after reading the card, then slipped it discreetly inside his coat pocket. "Always, Jake. I'm always discreet."

Jake believed him. "I want you to let me know if she leaves the hotel. Just call that number. Can you do that for me?"

"Of course. It might not be the moment she leaves, but I can use a phone when I go on break."

"How often do they give you a break around here?"

"The Drake takes very good care of me," Albert said proudly. "I sit and relax a bit every hour. They know I don't abuse the privilege and I know there isn't anywhere I would rather work. It's the best type of relationship to have. Too many don't realize if they take care of those around them, they will be taken care of as well."

"Words to live by," Jake mused.

"I can tell you that your lady left twice earlier this evening. She wasn't gone very long and has been in the hotel now for a couple hours."

"Do you know where she went?"

"It isn't my place to pry." Albert frowned at Jake as if the insinuation he would know what everyone did who stayed at the hotel insulted him. "I do believe both times she went out for coffee. The second time she returned was less than an hour ago and she carried two large cups from Starbucks."

Jake immediately wanted to know why Angela had bought two cups of coffee. "And that was less than an hour ago?"

"Yes." Albert answered with enough conviction it wouldn't be surprising if the man marked some people's arrivals and departures by the clock.

"She'll be coming downstairs here in a few minutes."

"It will be a pleasure seeing her."

"Yes, it will." Jake grinned at Albert and swore the old man winked at him. "I'll find out if she has anything to say to you when I return."

"Very good, Jake." Albert nodded and continued holding the automatic door as Jake headed out into the night.

It only took a couple minutes to walk around the corner to the bookstore. The establishment was open twenty-four hours a day, and the clerk behind the counter sat perched on a stool, his nose stuck in a worn-out-looking paperback. The rent for this place, in this part of town, couldn't be cheap. Jake was curious how the store kept their doors open. This was his second time here, and both times the shop had been practically void of customers.

The clerk didn't look up when Jake moved between the aisles and headed toward the rear of the store. When he reached the unmarked brown doors along the back wall, Jake turned, glancing over his shoulder. Neon lights blinked in the store window, illuminating the words "Vanity Bookstore." He no longer saw the clerk perched on his stool, and there didn't appear to be anyone else in the store.