Safko swallowed hard. “That will work.”
The remark angered her, and she wondered if Safko would have made these comments if he’d been talking to a male superior instead of her.
“Didn’t they teach you anything at Quantico?” she snapped.
The second team came out of the strip club ten minutes later, and strolled down the sidewalk to the sandwich shop. Two members of the team went inside to get something to eat, while the third member got into Daniels’s car to give her an update. His name was Otto West, and like her, he was a runner, with a lean body that looked good in clothes. There was lipstick smeared on the collar of his shirt, and he reeked of cheap perfume.
“Sampling the merchandise?” Daniels asked.
“I got made inside the club,” he said, embarrassed.
“For the love of Christ. How did that happen?”
“I let one of the girls drag me to a VIP room for a lap dance. I wanted to check out the back to see where Dexter might be hiding. I sat down on a couch, and she shut the door and then parked herself in my lap, and started kissing my neck. Before I knew it, she was running her hands over my body like she was frisking me. She found my gun, and said, ‘You’re a cop.’ I said, ‘Aren’t cops allowed to have fun?’ and she told me that I had to leave.”
“Do you think she was prepped?”
“It sure felt that way. I was in a strip club a few weeks ago, and there was no touching. I’m guessing Barely Legal got raided, and the management told the dancers to check out the customers, and ask them if they’re cops.”
“You go to strip clubs often?”
“Actually, I avoid them. It was a bachelor party.”
“Do you think Dexter’s hiding inside the club?”
“I do. When the girl was taking me to the VIP room, we passed a door with a sign that said, STAY OUT. It made me think Dexter was in there, so I played drunk, and banged the door with my shoulder. The girl got mad, and told me to cut it out.”
“What was security like inside the club?”
“A bouncer at the door, two more inside.”
The other members of West’s team came out of the sandwich shop holding bags of food. West lowered his window, and was handed a large cup of coffee and several packets of sugar.
“I’m sorry, I should have asked if you wanted anything,” he said.
“But you didn’t,” Daniels said.
“I said, I’m sorry.”
“Apology accepted.”
West fixed his coffee. He was starting to fade, and he smothered a yawn. She wanted to chew him out, but bit her lip. That was the problem with the agents on her team. Being in the FBI was just a job to them. Their passions lay elsewhere, either with their families or the hobbies they pursued on the weekends. They didn’t love their work, or derive the same satisfaction from making a bust that she did.
She realized that she missed Jon. Jon loved his work, and his level of energy was amazing. While in the military he’d been trained to stay up for days at a time, while still having enough energy to run over mountainous terrain with a rifle strapped to his back. There was no yawning in Jon’s world, his passion undiminished.
If anyone could go inside that club and root Dexter out, it was him. But could she keep him under control? Could she rein in Jon’s primal impulses, and prevent him from harming Dexter once he found him?
“I need some privacy,” she said.
“Want a coffee?” West asked. “On me.”
“No, I’m fine. Thanks for offering.”
Daniels waited until West was gone before calling Jon back. He picked up on the first ring, his breath tinged with excitement.
“Lay it on me,” she said.
“Nicki and her class helped me make another connection with our case,” he said.
“I need you to hold that thought, and hear me out,” she said.
The connection went silent, and she wondered if he was still there.
“Jon?”
“I’m listening,” he said.
“I’m at Barely Legal with my team, and we think that Dexter is hiding inside the club near the VIP rooms. I want you to go in there, and smoke him out.”
“I’m on my way.”
“Hold on. There’s a caveat. To make sure that you don’t hurt Dexter, I’m going to accompany you inside the club. With me so far?”
“I’m with you.”
“If you harm one hair on Dexter’s head, I’ll arrest you on the spot. I mean that, Jon. I need Dexter Hudson intact. That’s the deal. If you agree, say yes.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said.
“Good. Get your ass up here.”
Chapter 21
Florida was strange. The wealth was centered around the cities and their airports. The farther away you drove from these locations, the poorer and more downtrodden the landscape became. It was the land of haves, and have-nots.
He sped up US 19, his heart pounding in his chest. Beth, being an FBI agent, had thought she could smoke out Dexter on her own, and had discovered that she was out of her element. It happened to the best law enforcement agents when they conducted investigations in the Sunshine State. The rules were different here.
Barely Legal’s neon street sign wasn’t working, and he passed the club. The automated voice on his cell phone told him to make a U-turn and head back. He didn’t like it when robots gave him instructions, but he begrudgingly turned his car around.
He pulled into the parking lot of Dino’s and did a double take. Beth stood in front of the establishment, wearing ripped jeans and a tank top, her hair brushed back, her face painted with lipstick and mascara. She looked like the kind of babe you saw riding on the back of a motorcycle with her boyfriend, tough and alluring. He got out and approached her. Several clever lines came to mind, all of which he shelved.
“Got here as fast as I could. Nice outfit,” he said.
She eyed him warily. “Are you being sarcastic?”
“Not at all. You’ll fit right in. Where’s your team?”
“They’ve split up. One team is covering the back of the club, the other is parked by the main entrance, covering the front. Are you carrying?”
“Of course I’m carrying.”
“You need to lose your weapon. One of my agents got made by a dancer. She ran her hands over him, and found his gun.”
“We’re going into the club unarmed? That’s not wise.”
“I’ve got a gun in my purse. We’re good.”
“So I’ll be unarmed, and you won’t be.”
“I’ve got your back, Jon. You’ll be safe.”
He wanted to disagree, but arguing with Beth was a waste of time. He went to his vehicle, popped the trunk, and put his weapons into the large plastic bin where he kept his firearms and ammo. He was carrying a gun around his ankle, another in his pocket, and a third tucked away in his pants pocket. She stood behind him, shielding his actions from any patrons inside the sandwich shop. When he was finished disarming himself, they walked together down the sidewalk toward the club.
“Let me ask you something,” she said. “What kind of women patronize strip clubs? That’s a new one to me.”
“Women who like to watch other women get naked,” he said. “I once dated a woman that liked going to strip clubs. She claimed that watching the dancers take off their clothes made her horny.”
“Lovely.”
They entered the club’s property and crossed the parking lot. Every space was taken, the vehicles filled with rowdy guys drinking beer and getting stoned. One of the vehicles contained Beth’s team, although it was difficult to determine which one.
He stopped by the front door. The walls of the club were vibrating, the pounding music coming from within shaking the building.