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“Oh, yeah. You definitely have to.” She cracks her imaginary whip. “Get to work, buddy.”
Without any warning, I crouch down and flip her over my shoulder. With a solid smack to her ass, I say, “You’re going to pay for that, sweetheart.”
Jazz reaches between my legs from her upside-down position and rubs my junk. “Counting on it.”
This girl.
***
“You’re never going to believe the luck we’ve run into.” I can practically see John’s shit-eating grin.
“Even better than the video of my father with Madeline?”
“We may have footage to bring Callahan in.” He clears his throat. “And another informant who’s willing to testify in exchange for immunity. The FBI is getting close to making a move.”
“Holy shit.” I grab a drink from the fridge and take a seat on the couch. “What footage, and who’s the informant?”
“Oh, nothing big. Just Charles Callahan killing one of his employees. As for the informant, that would be none other than Mrs. Callahan.”
Water sprays everywhere as I choke on the sip I was taking. “Explain. Start with the employee.”
“On Christmas Eve, shortly after Lucas Gale’s body was found, Callahan is caught on camera injecting a needle into Darlene Williams’ body. Williams was sitting in front of Callahan’s desk when he came up from behind and jabbed the needle into her neck. She slumped down in the chair, unconscious almost immediately.”
I scrub a hand over my jaw. “How do you know she’s actually dead?”
“Because a while later, Callahan r
eturns with two henchmen. Charles placed a finger on her wrist and said the words, ‘No pulse.’ Then, the mystery men rolled her up using a large piece of plastic and duct tape—which they conveniently had at the ready—and hauled her off.”
“Holy fuck. What’d they do with her body?”
“No clue,” John says.
“How has she been missing for two weeks, and nobody’s asked about her whereabouts?”
“She lived at the Callahan house and had no next of kin. Who would bother?”
“Another employee at the mansion?”
“Callahan could’ve easily told them she quit or got fired.”
“She worked for him for as long as I can remember, and the woman rarely took a day off. So much for loyalty, huh?”
“I guess Charles wasn’t willing to take the risk when covering up a homicide.”
“What’s the deal with Madeline?”
“Mrs. Callahan attends the same hot yoga class three times per week. After the feds viewed the footage we sent them, they knew it was the perfect time to approach her, so they did so after her most recent class. Once Mrs. Callahan heard the FBI planned to charge her as an accomplice if she didn’t cooperate, the woman couldn’t spill their secrets fast enough. Madeline fell right into their hands, playing the victim card. She told them she’d do whatever she could to escape those tyrannical monsters.”
I scoff. “Right. That woman wouldn’t know innocence if it smacked her in the face.”
“Agreed, and her handler is well aware. But Madeline gave them intel we’ve been trying to gather for years, including the location of the warehouse your father was referring to. If it all checks out, the feds will have what they need to move forward.”
“What’d she tell them?”
“She validated what we knew about your father’s high-class prostitution ring and the fact that Charles is blackmailing officials, though she claims not to know any details about the latter. Most importantly, though, she did confirm both patriarchs are trafficking young women, mainly from Mexico and the Caribbean. That’s where the big money comes from, especially since they’ve joined forces with a cartel. Their operation has become such a well-oiled machine, Callahan and your father have taken a more passive role in the day-to-day.”
“How does Madeline know so much? I wouldn’t think they’d entrust her with sensitive information like that.”
