Did she even realize the stuff she was saying was going to get her killed?
“That wasn’t the first woman that guy brought back to that hotel,” Cleo said.
Now she became interesting.
He wanted to find out the name of the strip clubs that had denied her. Did they not realize there were men who wanted to see women with curves dancing for them? Priest knew he would’ve enjoyed the show. He was still glad it hadn’t worked out. Strippers and prostitutes were filthy creatures. An innocent girl like Cleo had no business getting involved in that shit.
“I’m listening.”
She licked her lips. “I didn’t like the guy. Sometimes he’d bring in multiple women a night, never together. The girls always looked young, always close to passing out. One time, this big dark truck turned up about half an hour later, and I saw them carrying the girls out. I did stop one of them once because the girl looked to be having a seizure.”
The girls had been drugged.
“The guy … he was … I was scared, and he had this swastika tattoo. I mean, who does that?” she asked.
“When was this?” he asked.
“Yesterday. I actually went to the police today, but none of them would believe me or take a statement. I felt like an idiot. Maybe I was wrong about everything.”
The cops were working for them, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. This could mean bad news for Cleo Bennet.
“They made me give my name and address. Told me they would be in touch.”
Fuck. Bastard. Fuck.
This woman. She didn’t understand what was going to happen to her.
“Now you’ve just made life real fucking interesting.” He lifted her by her maid’s uniform and without letting go, marched her straight back to his car. After shoving her into the passenger seat, he pointed a finger and told her not to move.
He was surprised when she stayed perfectly still.
There was no way he was ever going to understand women.
As he rounded the car to his side, his cell phone chimed.
Sure enough, Boss had texted him to find out what the holdup was.
He wasn’t going to admit to a giant fuckup right now, and so ignoring the text, he climbed behind the wheel.
“You’re not going to kill me?”
Once he’d turned over the ignition, he pulled away from the curb and headed back to the city. He had already remembered her home address from the driver’s license she had shown him.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
This woman didn’t shut up. He preferred peace and quiet.
“Please, what is happening right now?”
“Do you remember what the cops looked like?” Priest asked.
“Yeah, I think so.”
“You only think so?”
He had an eidetic memory. Nothing got past him.
“I was laughed at the whole time, so yeah. If they were part of a lineup, I’d be able to recognize them.” She slapped her hands on her thighs. “Are you taking me home? Do you believe me?”