Page 26 of Lake House Killer

“It’s not his first rodeo.”

“It’s not hers either.”

He nods to the man in the pinstriped suit. “Let’s go rope that steer.”

“Let’s.”

16

Special Agent Fallon Baxter

We make our way to the bar and take a seat on the far end, here at the Velvet Lounge Gentlemen’s Club in downtown Denver.

The bartender comes by and we order a couple of gin and tonics.

“Stone?” I say as the bartender slides them over and Jack antes up along with a generous tip.

“I’m not touching it,” he says.

I’m not one to micromanage my partner’s drinking habits, but if he’s on a sobriety streak I’ll make sure to point it out to him.

Jack waves at the man in the pinstripe suit and he makes his way over.

It’s interesting to see him in 3D after studying him on that security footage for so long. A part of me feels as if I’m seeing a celebrity, or in this case a cartoon character come to life.

He’s tall, wide as a door, and built for destruction. He looks somewhere in his late forties, with heavily tanned skin, a large thick dark mustache taking up half his face, and a mean look in his eyes that lets you know he’s not afraid to break a neck in a dark alley—or a house of worship.

“How may I help you?” Marco sheds a forced grin and either a silver or gold tooth glints in the light. It’s too dim in here to tell. But my money is on gold.

“I’m going to cut to the chase,” Jack says, pulling out his phone and flashing a picture of Erin and Marco huddled in the parking lot of that grocery store during their cash exchange. “Where can we find her?”

The smile melts off the man’s face as he takes us both in.

“What’s it to you?”

I pull out my badge and covertly flash it at him so as to not cause a scene. With a mob like this, we could have a stampede for the door and I’d hate for any boob in this place to get injured, both literally and figuratively.

“Even better.” Marco leans in and there’s a newfound defiance in his eyes. “I know exactly where you can find her.”

“Where?” I practically spit in his face as I get the word out as fast as I can.

A dark laugh rumbles through him, but he never takes his eyes off mine. “I’ll tell you. But not unless you offer up your services. I work for the Morettis. I’m sure you’re aware of who they are.”

Both Jack and I offer up a sober nod.

“Good,” he says. “Manny Moretti is running the Denver syndicate. But your men—and women already know that. Let’s just say we’ve been in touch.” His shoulders jump.

“Where is my sister?” I growl and the man’s face brightens a notch.

“Sister?” He cocks his head, looking genuinely amused, and I quickly realize I’ve made a grave mistake. “Well now, I didn’t realize this was personal. That changes things, doesn’t it? What are you willing to give?”

I hold up that wad of ones and Marco shakes his head at the offer.

Didn’t think so.

“Save it for the girls,” he says. “I know where Erin is.”

My adrenaline spikes instantly.

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