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Dylan debated going up and knocking on her door to see if she was okay, but in the end, he knew he'd only scare her more. He'd only talked to her a few times at the Four Seasons bar when he'd trailed Davenport inside. Something about the petite woman called out to his protective side. She tried to project this tough exterior, but he'd seen a vulnerability in her that made him want to wrap her up in bubble wrap and protect her at all costs. Now that he'd been trailing Jake Davenport for a few weeks, he understood it was that exact vulnerability that Davenport noticed in her, too. The difference between the men was that Dylan wanted to protect her—Jake wanted to exploit her.
When Davenport took off in the direction of the warehouse, Dylan put his car in gear to follow. He'd be patient for one more night.
* * *
Lukus
Lukus crossed to the coffee maker and poured the last cup of burnt coffee into hisStanford Universitymug. He was running on only a few hours of sleep, but he was too wired to slow down.
They'd been lucky to find a furnished townhouse available for rent by the month, and turned it into their west coast war room. It was easier to maintain the privacy they needed here than in the hotel suite Z and Dylan had been holed-up in a few days ago. The rental also gave them a small kitchen and two bedrooms to crash in when they needed to catch a few hours of rest.
He looked around the room at the motley crew he had on the ground, and wondered again if he needed to bring in more help. He had purposefully kept the team small on this one, mainly because he wasn't entirely sure if they were going to be able to do this job by the book. The fewer men he needed involved, the better.
He was relieved to have Zachary 'Z' Zimmerman, his most senior detective, on the case. To an outsider, Z could, at times, appear to be as much of a predator as their mark, Jake Davenport. Lukus knew that as ruthless as Z was in the pursuit of a target, he was at least usually on the right side of the moral compass. Still, he regularly found himself having to overlook his employee's rather unconventional, and sometimes shady, methods used toget his man. Under normal circumstances, those methods made Lukus nervous, but with Jake Davenport on the loose, he couldn't be happier to have Z on the case.
His friend and second in command, Derek, was in the corner talking softly to his brother, Dylan, Lukus's newest and most junior employee. Dylan was the antithesis of Z. Too emotional. Too volatile. Too inexperienced. Lukus would send him back to Chicago if he thought for a minute the kid would go, but cutting him loose now would only drive Dylan to go rogue. Better to keep him close.
On the phone with Z was Cameron Solinski, their tech guru. Only twenty-three, the kid was a computer genius. Lukus didn't want to know the details of how Cam acquired the confidential information they needed for their investigations.
Plausible deniability.
"Okay, I've got the monitors set up. Let's get started," Z called out to get everyone's attention.
Dylan couldn't wait to lay down his own agenda. "We've been watching long enough. Tell me we're going into the fucking warehouse tonight."
Lukus didn't need to intervene. Z had just about had enough of young Parker. "And do what? For the hundredth time, we don't have enough evidence yet. Davenport is smart. He's got a lot of security around him. We haven't found anything illegal, and even if we had, we know for a fact he has some of the local law enforcement's ear. You know we got a lot of push back after you got the shit beat out of you. We're gonna need something rock solid before we can involve the police again," Z snapped.
"Fuck the police," Dylan retorted.
"Sure. Fuck the police. I'm not exactly their biggest supporter, but will you get your head out of your ass for five minutes and listen to me rationally? What's your plan here? To rush in there guns blazing and shoot the bastard dead? If so, that's great. I'll be sure to visit you once a year in Statesville."
"All right, everybody calm down. We're on the same team." Lukus had stepped between them to try to keep the two men from throwing punches.
Cameron's voice came over the speaker. "If you guys are done, I have new information."
Derek urged him on. "Great. Tell us what you've got."
"Look at the screen Z just got hooked up."
The four men gathered around the thirty-two inch monitor as the picture of a naked, red-headed woman hanging from an elaborate display of ropes came into focus. She was writhing in pain and the cameraman made sure to capture the running mascara on her face.
Cam continued his report. "This is just one of six different interactive Internet sites run out of the 'Strictly Disciplined' warehouse you've been staking out. This channel specializes in bondage and what they calldiabolical restraints. There's another focused on anal domination, another for group orgies, and my personal favorite, staged abductions with non-con elements. The most controversial with the lowest subscription numbers is all watersports, and I'm trying not to be totally grossed out by the fact that the most popular site is for staged incest fantasies. Mommy/son, Daddy/daughter, brother/sister."
Dylan was animated. "Thank fuck. We've got him."
Cameron corrected him. "We don't have shit. The sessions are often live. The recording studios are set up in the warehouse, and every session begins with the actors in the scene recording their consent to participate live. They end every session the same way, with a narrator interviewing the players involved to find out their favorite part of the scene or what they didn't enjoy. I've been able to match at least a dozen on-screen talents with surveillance photos you took Dylan; proving these women and even some submissive men are willingly driving themselves to and from the warehouse to work just like they would if they worked at Wal-Mart."
"That's such bullshit! He has to be blackmailing them." Dylan's emotions were running hot.
Lukus tried to settle him down. "Will you sit down and let Cam finish? I'd like to hear more."
"As best I can tell, he has another half-dozen or so 1-800 phone-sex numbers being run from inside, too. He has enough bandwidth and phone lines going into the building to run a small city. They're using top-of-the-line encryption and security firewalls, which I, of course, was able to circumvent, thank-you-very-much. He's making a shit-load of money and even if he's paying the sex-workers top dollar, he's had these sites up for years. Subscriptions are through the roof. I haven't found his offshore accounts yet, but I know he has them. The cash-flow through the Strictly Disciplined accounts is incredible," Cam told them.
Derek jumped in next. "I think that sounds like our best angle, don't you? The websites themselves feel like a dead-end."
"Are you nuts? They're hurting those women!" Dylan protested.
"Those women are willing sex workers."
