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He grabbed her by her hair and she was forced to look up into his evil eyes, as the music continued to fill the room. No one was coming. No one was going to stop him from fulfilling his fantasy. The lights flashed and shimmered around the room and across the ceiling. The setting was like a nightclub, with the blasting music, the pounding of the bass, the ultraviolet rays of light and flashes of white and silver pulsating around them. It made her feel frazzled, unable to focus.
“You chose to be here.”
“No. I didn’t. Let me go. People are looking for me. I was supposed to meet them,” she screamed at him, as the flashes of white and silver light passed across his face. He appeared wild and angry. She attempted to stand up. He shoved her back down.
“Oh, you mean your fellow cops? Yeah, well, they’ll meet up with you, very soon.”
She swallowed hard. He knew she was a cop. Her cover was blown. But how? She had been so careful.
Tara?
She tried to escape on her knees, and as she fell to the floor face first, he grabbed her by her hair and pulled her back up. The pain radiated from her shoulders and neck to the roots of her hair. She screamed for help but knew she wouldn’t be heard among the loud music, the wild and crazy flashing lights, and the bass of those damn drums. Her heart was pounding just as fast and fear consumed her. There was no escaping this man. She’d failed at her job. She’d failed and it was going to cost her her life.
He pulled her up and stared at her.
“They’ll see you again. Your pig friends. At the crime scene,” he whispered and then the expression on his face was so evil, so intense, she knew this was it.
“Fuck you. I know who you are. They’ll figure it out, and then they’ll kill you. Your people will find out what kind of sick bastard you really are.”
A small smirk emerged on his face as he undid his zipper and dropped his pants.
“No. They won’t.”
* * * *
Julianna “J.J.” Jacobs stole a peek at the crowd from behind the heavy, velvet, red stage curtain. A group of female performers covered the stage, each young woman dancing her heart out hoping to stand out from the others and catch her big break. The beat of the fast drums brought a feel of excitement and energy toward the crowd. The women danced their hearts out, keeping up with the fast beat and maintaining their form. The shiny sequin beaded skirts hugged their shapely hips, as the shimmering, beaded trims, whipped back and forth against their toned thighs. They looked fantastic as the women performed their number simultaneously with perfection just like during rehearsals this morning.
She stood backstage, waiting for her moment in the spotlight. Five nights a week and almost two months into this gig. She had to have established some credibility by now.
She looked around the room backstage. It was a madhouse, too. It had an area for makeup, one for hair, and another with floor-to-ceiling mirrors to practice routines and check yourself out from head to toe.
She couldn’t help but feel a bit on edge. She wasn’t nervous, but she knew that time was running out. A third woman had gone missing three days ago, and no one knew shit.
J.J. was trying her hardest to play her role and find out information. But with one of the women who’d disappeared being a federal agent, things were looking pretty bleak. There was no connection to the casino, but J.J. knew that’s how these men got away with it. The victims always left the premises and then disappeared. Or at least that’s what the detectives and the feds thought. The crime scenes were never anywhere in the vicinity of this club. But they’d caught a break. They’d received an anonymous call from someone who was approached to prostitute for money. She was scared, and she knew about the murders. Too bad they couldn’t track her down now.
J.J. peeked out toward the crowd, knowing that she was to perform next. She wasn’t really nervous. She just wanted to be certain to pull off her act. Things were getting complicated around here. Three weeks, and numerous conversations with fellow employees, as well as the bosses, and she didn’t have enough evidence to point fingers. All she had to go by were her gut instincts. Being a cop, she relied on those on a daily basis.
She didn’t want to blow her cover, but she also was desperate for answers and wanted to nail the scumbag behind the multiple murders. Two federal agents had disappeared, Meredith Perkins and Denise Sinclair, just three days ago. Before that the total was five, including J.J.’s friend and fellow undercover officer, Marlee Davidson. The Commander wanted to pull her out, but she’d begged him to let her remain just for a little while longer. Marlee’s murder hit the department hard. She was young, beautiful, and establishing her abilities as an undercover detective. But the risks with this case were higher than most. Her cover had been blown. They knew that because the prick responsible for killing her left her real name and her police badge number on a piece of paper on top of her body. It was like a laugh-in-your-face type of message. He was letting them know that he felt smarter and brazen enough to get away with this.
Her commander didn’t want to put J.J. in. Commander Frank Reynolds was a good friend. He was a man she trusted her life with, and he of course took on that role after she’d lost her fiancé, Anthony, to the job. His nephew, Anthony, was killed in the line of duty, during an undercover operation. The details were still shady, but there was nothing any of them could do about it. Case closed, and Anthony was dead.
J.J. swallowed hard. That had been two years ago, and she hadn’t had a relationship with any man since. She probably never would. Her life was law enforcement.
She looked around the room behind her. No one was paying her any attention right now. It seemed that whenever someone was up next to perform, they stayed clear of them. They gave them time to do their rituals or whatever they needed to do to prepare mentally for the performance. So in the downtime J.J. thought about how she’d gotten here, and how badly she wanted to solve the case and catch t
his bastard.
In her mind she thought back about the private meeting in her commander’s office. The one where FBI agents were present to ask for assistance because they needed a certain undercover female officer with a specific look, as well as capabilities.
J.J. figured not many cops had natural talent. Talent that could land them record deals, or even acting jobs. That wasn’t for J.J. Well, at least she hadn’t considered it until Anthony suggested it to her one night. They’d talked about their future, about getting married, and about her safety. She was always a bit on the wild side. Growing up watching Dirty Harry movies with her father, and even Die Hard movies, enticed her into getting involved with law enforcement. It was in her blood. Her father had died on the job, and more than likely she would, too.
She sighed as she looked out toward the crowd, taking a peek from the curtain. She wondered if the McCues were there yet. She needed to get some evidence, and find out if there was an illegal prostitution business going on, and if Marlee’s cover had been exposed because she’d confided in one of the other dancers to get information. A lot was riding on tonight.
She thought about the meeting at Commander Reynolds’s office.
“It’s a dangerous situation, J.J. I really don’t feel comfortable placing you in there, but you fit the part.” She stood there with her hands by her sides, as the other detectives and some big shot from the FBI looked her body over.
“I know. I get it,” she replied. Her large breasts, voluptuous figure, and experience with both singing and dancing set her apart from the others. But she had her own reasons for wanting this job. Marlee. She was an old friend, a fellow undercover detective working the case from the start, and the third victim to this violence. Beaten, raped, tortured, and then murdered, J.J. was out for justice, big time. She lived for shit like this. She knew she lived life on the edge after losing Anthony. It was all worth it, if she could stop the killer or killers and save some lives.
