Munro Family: The Deception Part 11

CHAPTER 10.

Tuesday evening Savannah applied a thick coat of black mascara to her eyelashes. Her hand shook from barely contained nerves. Her eyelids were already heavily made up with a blend of brown and green and purple eye shadow. It was way overdone, but it wouldn't look out of place in the muted lighting of the brothel.

She glanced at the clock on her iPod dock where it sat on her nightstand.

Nine o'clock.

She had half an hour to psych herself up about returning to the Black Opal. Despite her earlier determination, her courage had diminished with every pa.s.sing hour and she was at the point where she wondered whether she'd be able to risk it all again.

Thoughts of Malee and her broken body were fresh in her mind. Vince wasn't a man to be messed with. If he even suspected something wasn't right, she'd be fish bait. Did she really want to take the chance?

And then there was Max. He'd be livid. Her only hope was that he'd see it her way if she managed to get the scoop on the entire story of the shocking dealings at the brothel. Max was a numbers man and nothing sold newspapers better than a story on s.e.x, drugs and celebrities.

With another nervous glance at the clock, she quickly applied a second coat of chocolate-brown lipstick. Slipping on five-inch, black high-heels, the same ones she'd worn to the ball, she checked her appearance in the mirror.

The tight, black leather skirt rode high on her thighs and she blushed at the thought people were actually going to see her in it. She'd bought it on eBay last year and it wasn't until it had arrived and she'd put it on, that she realized how short it was. It hadn't looked that short on the website. One of the problems with buying things online.

Still, it had been a bargain at fifteen dollars, including postage, and it had fit her perfectly. Until now, she'd never imagined actually wearing it, but she hadn't given it away, either. Now, she was glad she'd kept it.

Teamed with a short and clingy, low cut, black midriff top and black fishnet stockings, she was sure she'd pa.s.s inspection, if it came to that. While she was hopeful it wouldn't, she didn't want to draw attention to herself by looking out of place.

In the likely event that she found the back door locked, her plan was to prevail upon one of the security guards to let her inside. She was relying on the fact they'd never imagine a woman, other than one of the working girls, would want to get in and so they wouldn't question her story. Once inside, she planned to locate at least one of the girls and talk to them.

Taking a deep breath, she did her best to calm the anxious fluttering in her stomach. She considered the list of questions she hoped would be answered tonight. Adrenaline pulsed through her at the thought of what was to come.

A sharp rap at the front door sent her nerves into a frenzy. She took a peek through the peephole and breathed a sigh of relief at the familiar face on the other side. With quick movements, she opened the deadbolt and swung the door inwards.

"Dylan! What are you doing here?"

Her brother stepped over the threshold, a disarming smile stretching his mouth wide. Sweeping her into his arms, he squeezed her tightly.

"Hey, sis. Thought I'd drop around for a visit. It's good to see you."

Taking in his appearance, she frowned. He was in dire need of a haircut with his reddish-brown hair wild and unruly. In direct contrast, his s.h.i.+rt and pants sported designer labels. "You should be at Dexter House, Dylan. What are you doing here?"

He shrugged and his gaze skipped away. "I had to get out of there, sis. I couldn't stand another minute of their bulls.h.i.+t. Meditation, quiet solitude, counseling sessions, group therapy-it's all such a load of s.h.i.+t."

Her lips tightened with barely suppressed frustration. She looked up at him. She was older by nine years, but it had been a long time since she'd seen the top of his head.

"Dylan, they're trying to help you. You promised your lawyer you'd stick it out this time. What's going to happen if you have to front the judge again?"

He thrust his bottom lip out in a familiar display of petulance. "Don't worry about it, Sav. It'll be cool. You'll see. I'm clean." He stepped away from her and spread his arms wide. "I haven't used for months."

Wanting to believe him, but not sure if she could, Savannah led him into the kitchen. "Can I get you a cup of coffee?"

"Yeah, that'd be great." He glanced around the tidy room. "So, how've you been?"

Filling the electric jug with water, she glanced back at him. "Not too bad. Busy at work. Actually, I was on my way out." She plugged the jug in and switched it on, then turned to face him.

As if noticing her appearance for the first time, Dylan's eyes widened. "You're all dressed up. Hitting the nightclubs?"

Now it was her turn to avoid his gaze. She forced a smile. "S-something like that. I'm youngish and single. Thought I'd go and have a good time."

He grinned back at her. "Good on you. I thought you'd never get back on the scene after all that s.h.i.+t you went through with that a.s.shole you were engaged to." His gaze moved over her. "You're looking good. I might even join you."

Savannah thought fast. "Um, look, normally I'd love to hang out with you, but it's just that-um, it's kind of a girl's night." The lie burned in her throat. She looked away, hoping he wouldn't discern the guilt in her eyes.

She needn't have worried. His lips tugged upwards in a grin. "Way to go, Sav. Good for you." He came forward and rested his hands on her shoulders. "I wouldn't dream of cramping your style." His eyes twinkled down at her. "Besides, those girls are all way too old for me."

"Hey!" She punched him playfully in the arm. "Easy on the age thing, little brother. None of us have hit thirty, yet."

Dylan held his arms up in surrender. "Okay, okay. I was joking. I think it's great that you're getting out again." He smiled broadly and she was reminded how good-looking he was. She sent a silent prayer that he was off the drugs for good. So much wasted potential. If only...

"I promise I won't wait up for you."

Savannah blinked and focused her attention back on him. "You're staying?"

His eyes skittered away from hers. "Yeah, if it's all right. It will only be for a night. Maybe two."

"What about Dexter House? You still have a month to go on your program."

"I've learned all I'm going to there."

"But, the judge-"

"Will only find out if I break my bond, which I'm not going to do. I promise." He shot her a beguiling smile. "I'm good, Sav. I'm great. I'm clean and I feel on top of the world. I went to rehab kicking and screaming and all their carrying on about therapy and c.r.a.p annoyed the s.h.i.+t out of me, but I'm happy to admit it was for the best. It worked and I'm glad, but I'm finished. What can I learn in another month that I haven't already?"

Savannah suppressed a sigh and headed into the hall. She pulled out a blanket from the linen cupboard. "Here." She tossed it to him. "You can sleep on the couch."

"Thanks, sis. I knew I could rely on you."

"Just as long as you know it's only temporary," she warned.

His face was a picture of innocence. "Of course."

"If you're feeling so good, you need to start looking for a job and an apartment of your own."

"Absolutely. It's time I stood on my own two feet. You've done more than enough for me over the years."

Savannah searched for signs of insincerity and found none. Her heart filled with love. Stepping closer, she put her arms around his waist and hugged him.

"I'm so glad you're better," she whispered against his s.h.i.+rt front. "I didn't know if I'd ever get my brother back again."

Dylan squirmed out of her embrace and moved away. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. No need to go all soppy on me. I thought you had somewhere to go?"

Glancing at her watch, she noted the time. "You're right." She picked up her keys and wallet off the top of the TV cabinet and turned to face him.

"I have to go. The..." Savannah hesitated. "The girls are waiting for me." She gave him another quick hug. "Help yourself to the kitchen. I'm sure you'll find something to eat, if you're hungry."

"Thanks, Sav." He caught her eye and held it. "I really appreciate it."

She shrugged and looked away. "Hey, that's what family's for, right?"

Leaving him in the living room, she picked up the dark-colored canvas bag she'd left on the kitchen table and checked to make sure the long black wig she'd replaced earlier was in it. She still had no idea where the other one had ended up. Somewhere in the brothel, no doubt.

She stowed her wallet in another pocket and picked up her phone. Dread settled heavily in her stomach at the thought of what lay ahead. Only Lucy knew she intended to return to the brothel, but Savannah hadn't apprised her friend of her recent plans. If anything happened to her at the Black Opal, no one would even know where to start looking for her. She called out to Dylan.

"Hey, do you still have your phone?"

"Yeah, of course. Why?"

"I-I just wanted to check. Is it the same number?"

"Yeah." Dylan sauntered back into the kitchen. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," she said hurriedly. "I just wanted to make sure I could contact you, just in case..."

"Just in case what?"

"Just in case I need to. I'm...meeting the girls at a club in Darlinghurst. Just so you know."

Dylan frowned. "Darlinghurst? That's a little out of the way for you, isn't it? Why not just go into the city?"

Fl.u.s.tered, Savannah thrust around for a response. "One of the girls knows the owner of a club there. She...she invited us for drinks." Waving a casual hand in his direction, she forced a smile. "I'll be fine. I'm nearly thirty, remember? Way old enough to look after myself. If I need you, I'll call. I promise."

Hurrying forward, Savannah switched on the small lamp which sat on the side table in the hall and then kissed her brother good-bye. Closing the front door behind her, she made her way down to the darkened car park.

Dylan watched his sister's compact Mazda pull away from the curb and cursed aloud. He'd had her alone, completely unaware. His hands had been on her shoulders. With the tiniest movement they would have been around her neck. Within minutes, he could have squeezed the life out of her.

And yet, he hadn't.

"f.u.c.k," he cursed again, his fists clenched tight. He should have done it. He'd come here to do it. She should have been dead right now, not blithely driving away for a night on the town with her girlfriends-or so she said. After she'd thrown in that bit about Darlinghurst, he had to wonder. What if she was going back to the Black Opal?

The thought made him swear again. Why the f.u.c.k hadn't he killed her? He hadn't hesitated when Vince had ordered him to get rid of the other girls. He'd barely blinked when their surprise had turned to fear and then to terror as he'd come at them with the pillow that eventually snuffed out their lives. It was quick and it was clean, much better than his first kill with the gun. He hated the sight of blood.

Even when he was a kid, he'd bawled like a baby when he'd grazed his knee or elbow or shoulder enough to draw blood. He'd relied on Savannah to clean him up and cover his wounds with a bandage. Only when the blood was safely concealed by the white wadding had he dared to turn back around and survey her workmans.h.i.+p.

The memory sent a surge of tenderness through him. She'd been such a good big sister. He hadn't made it easy for her.

It was too d.a.m.n bad she'd gotten mixed up in Vince's affairs. Writing that story had been just plain stupid. Didn't she have any idea who she was dealing with? Vince wasn't about to let something like that pa.s.s. Any day now Dylan expected to receive the order to get rid of her.

It was why he'd decided to preempt it. Vince was known for his voracious appet.i.te with women. If it was simply straight s.e.x, Dylan could live with that, but he'd seen firsthand the effects of Vince's lovemaking. Bite marks and burns that left scars. Bottles and other items being forced into orifices they had no business being. No one left Vince's bed without permanent memories of their time with him-that's if they left at all.

Vince would take one look at Savannah and would want her. There was nothing surer. She was like some rare, exotic plant. Ma.s.ses of wild red hair and alabaster skin and a body to die for. Dylan may have been her brother, but he wasn't blind.

Vince would still order her death-after he'd used and abused her-that was a fait accompli. It was the agony of the moments beforehand Dylan fretted over. That and the inevitable beating she'd endure.

He'd had the opportunity to kill her with his own hands, to end it before she even conceived of the kind of sick horror Vince could inflict upon her... Yet he'd let it slide. His courage had failed him at the moment when he'd needed it most. And now she could be headed back there...

Bile rose in his throat. He dashed toward the bathroom, but it was too late. Hot, acidic vomit filled his mouth and spewed out. It sprayed up the walls and across the carpet. He sank to his knees in the hall, his head bent forward and he retched until there was nothing left.

Savannah pulled her car into the curb a block away from the brothel and switched off the engine. The streets of Darlinghurst were quiet and only pale illumination from the intermittent streetlights and the muted light from windows of the residential houses lining the street broke the darkness.

Locking her wallet in the glove box, she unzipped her gym bag and pulled out the wig. Quickly tying her hair back into a ponytail, she leaned forward and awkwardly drew the wig over her head.

Tucking in the strands of her hair around her ears, she switched on the small flashlight she'd brought with her and checked her appearance in the rearview mirror. She straightened the wig and smoothed the dark strands down until they hung neatly. Then she drew in a deep, nervous breath and steeled herself to climb out of the car.

The clock on the dashboard showed it was a little after ten. According to Malee, the security guards should have started their routine patrol around the building.

It was time to go inside.

Fear surged through her, rooting her to the spot. The last girl she'd come into contact with had been savagely murdered. What if someone discovered she was not what she appeared? She would vanish, just like Malee. Did she really want to risk her life for a story?

But it wasn't just the story. Okay, she needed to keep Max happy and she sure as h.e.l.l needed the job, but it was her need to find out the dirt on Will and to honor her promise to Malee that drove her.

It would be easier to go to the police, or at the very least, to Pete, and the more she thought about it, the more the idea appealed. Especially now, sitting outside the brothel in the darkness, praying that she'd live to see the morning.

But getting the police involved would mean she'd lose the opportunity to discover Will's connection to the place. It was possible he was nothing more than a wealthy patron seeking out all the brothel had to offer, just as Max had suggested. The thought made her frown, but it was an infinitely better option than what she'd conjured up earlier. She'd be devastated to discover he was involved in something more sinister...

Knowing the only way she'd find out was to question those inside, she opened her car door, stepped out and closed it quietly behind her before she could change her mind. Having nowhere to stow her keys, she squatted beside her car and fitted them carefully onto the inside ledge of the vehicle, just above the back tire. It wasn't the cleverest hiding place, but it would have to do.

Coming upright, she picked her way along the sidewalk. Her high heels made walking difficult on the uneven surface and the dim glow from the streetlights provided very little a.s.sistance. The last thing she needed was to twist her ankle and be forced to abort her plan. She'd never find the courage to repeat it.

Her breath came in short, choppy pants and her heart pumped hard. She struggled to calm down. She a.s.sumed the back door would be locked. The thought of what might happen if the guard didn't believe her excuse for being outside filled her with dread. Now that she had intimate knowledge of the dark and evil underbelly of the brothel and the punishments it could inflict, she was a hundred times more nervous about entering the building than she'd been the first time.

When Malee had initially contacted her and told her about Vince, she'd been somewhat sceptical about the accuracy of the girl's reports. But Max had wanted a story and she'd had nothing else in the pipeline. The first time, sheer bravado and a fair splash of naivety had carried her right to the door of the brothel and beyond. But could she do it again?

The first time, she'd been met by Malee and had been hurried into a nearby bedroom. She'd been nervous, but had felt equal parts excitement and adrenaline at the adventure she was on-and her mind had been firmly fixed on getting a story. She hadn't allowed herself to dwell on the danger and hadn't given any thought to the possibility that she could have been caught. Or worse, that Malee would be floating in the river soon after.

It wasn't until she'd taken part in the stage show that she'd felt any misgivings. Even then, it wasn't anything she thought she couldn't handle, even when Will fell on her.

But this time, it was different. Malee had been telling the truth. The knowledge Savannah now had about the brothel owner's criminal activities, not to mention his proclivity for violence, left her feeling a whole lot less brave and all of the excitement had evaporated. If the thought of leaving the girls to the mercy of Vince Maranoa didn't almost nauseate her, she'd very nearly pull off her heels and bolt straight back to the safety of her car.

The fact was, she couldn't do it. She owed it to Malee's memory and she owed it to the other girls who were still living a h.e.l.l they could never have imagined. Then, there was Will. She owed it to herself to find out once and for all whether he was part of it.

Holding onto that thought, Savannah took another deep breath of the still-warm air, squared her shoulders and turned into the narrow alleyway that ran between the brothel and the adjoining building. The security guards were nowhere in sight. The only sound was muted music coming from somewhere inside the brothel.

Peering intently at the ground before her, she took care not to trip on the loose stones and gravel which comprised the walkway. Praying the guards were still on the opposite side of the building, she continued forward, not even daring to breathe as she strained to hear over the sound of the gravel and stones that crunched beneath her feet.

A sudden bark of laughter not far behind her forced the air from her lungs in a rush and she gasped in fright.

Had the guards completed their circuit already? She risked a glance behind her, but saw nothing in the darkness.