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It hadn’t opened until the afternoon, and much of their morning had been spent double and triple checking blueprints on the place.
"Changed the name from what your aunt told you," Ethan said.
"Yeah, I guess things change even in a small town."
"Not much," replied Ethan.
"How far from her did you grow up?" she asked, shooting him a sidelong glance.
"Only a couple towns over. Knew Jeb, though."
"I remember you saying that."
He massaged at his chin, a far off look in his gaze.
She didn't comment on his musings.
Instead, she turned her attention to the task at hand.
"You still good being backup?"
"If you say so," he muttered.
She flashed a thumbs up.
"Stay sharp and keep your eyes open," Rachel instructed her partner as she stepped out of the vehicle. The door creaked in protest, and she shut it firmly behind her. She could feel Ethan's gaze on her as she walked towards the entrance, but her mind was elsewhere.
Rachel couldn't shake the image of Ethan half-naked, the memory of his toned muscles and the confidence with which he carried himself. It was a distraction she couldn't afford right now, but part of her wondered how bad it might be to catch another glimpse of him. She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts, and focused on the mission at hand.
She approached the front of the brothel. Her boots crunched against the gravel beneath her, and she took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of stale cigarettes and cheap perfume that hung in the air.
"Afternoon," she greeted the bouncer as she pushed the door open and stepped inside.
He didn't move to intercept her. She was wearing more makeup than she was accustomed to, and she was in plain clothes.
The dimly lit room was filled with the muffled sounds of laughter and hushed conversations. A group of scantily clad women lounged near the bar, eyeing Rachel with a mix of curiosity and guarded suspicion. She knew she had to tread carefully.
It was only the afternoon, but by the looks of things, the place was still active.
Sin never slept in Longview, it appeared.
Rachel winced as the phrase her aunt so often used echoed in her mind.
She was turning into Sarah.
She approached the bar.
"Can I help you?" one woman asked, stepping forward. She was tall and slender, with high cheekbones and striking green eyes.
"Hey, I'm looking for someone," Rachel said, trying to keep her voice steady. "I heard she might've worked here. A girl named Candace?"
The woman's eyes narrowed, and she ran a hand through her long, dark hair. "Candace? I don't know any Candace. Who's asking?"
"A friend. She's my sister," Rachel lied.
The woman eyed Rachel up and down. "You're Mexican?"
"No."
