Hooked

the code on the keypad.” He tipped an imaginary hat and disappeared around the corner.
    Nice and neat. Benny Cooper ran a tight, organized ship. She could see why he was so successful. He never physically passed payment. Each girl had her own safe deposit box. She arranged the fee, and Benny took his percentage from the client. The girl was an independent contractor, and the client rented the room from Benny. What the contractor and client did in that room, Benny could claim not to know. He was a landlord. Nothing more. She nodded with a modicum of admiration for the way Benny handled his business. Very neat indeed.
    Tawny thought of going down to the desk to see if she could get any information from Charles, but instead took the elevator to the fourth floor. Women were more likely to talk than a man, and Charles behaved like the loyal employee. It was ea rly, six. She had a little less than an hour to look around. Maybe―what were their names? Angie, Tessa, and the hostess, Darlene? Yes, those were the names—maybe they could shed some light. Walsh mentioned two women who hadn’t shown up in over a week. She remembered the one name he knew. Melody. How could she bring it up without actually mentioning it? Oh, who else works here? Maybe I know them. If she mentioned Serena, would anyone react? Did they know her? No, better step lightly the first night. She had time.
    Okay, Tawny. Time to do some snooping. Man, she hated this. A spy for the cops. She’d sunk as low as she could go.

Chapter Seventeen
    Mata Hari

    T awny exited the elevator and stepped into an open area that occupied the entire fourth floor. A glance around took her breath away. The magnificent twelve-foot-high ceiling resembled a masterpiece painted by the Venetian artist Tiepolo. Instead of a pastel flurry of deities and cherubs, explicit scenes depicted men and women, men and men, and women and women performing erotically sexual acts. The artwork was first class, as was everything she’d seen in the building so far.
    A few casual groupings of deep-cushioned velvet sofas and comfortable armchairs offered intimate privacy, while a compact arrangement of stools lined the front of a giant mahogany bar. The hand-carved behemoth with its mirrored back must have been salvaged from an old English pub. Columned shelves contained dozens of bottles of liquor and liqueurs and sparkling wine glasses hung by their stems from a lattice overhang. It was as nice a setup as any Tawny had seen in the many expensive watering holes, hotels, and restaurants she’d frequented over the years. The three women she met in the office sat at one of the skirted tables dotting the vast area. Each nursed a glass of wine while in deep conversation. Angie noticed her.
    “There you are, Tawny. Join us.”
    “Thanks,” Tawny said. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”
    “No,” Darlene said. “Not at all.”
    “Tell me your names again. I don’t want to get them wrong.”
    “I have a brain like a sieve, so I understand. I’m Angie, this is Darlene, and—”
    “I’m Tessa. Have a glass of wine.” She got up, heading for the bar. “Red or white?”
    “Got a Coke?”
    “Um, sure,” Tessa said. “Don’t tell me you’re in Twelve Steps.”
    Tawny laughed. “No, I don’t drink. Haven’t since college. I never handled it well, so I figured why do something that makes me feel so bad?”
    Tessa brought an ice-filled glass and a can of Coke and set it on the large coffee table in front of Tawny. She looked to be the youngest, with that just-graduated-from-college innocence. She wouldn’t be innocent long. Not if she worked for Benny. Tessa teemed with enthusiasm, eager to please. Probably a natural sub. Pretty, not beautiful. Clear skin, bright blue eyes, long blonde hair, and a slim, athletic figure.
    Angie’s caramel-colored skin and long, silky black hair revealed an exotic mix of ethnicities. More elegant than the others, she wore a stunning plum-colored dress and gold hoop earrings. She’d receive stares wherever she went, and Tawny bet she had a full calendar at Upper Eighties, with men lining up to book her.
    Darlene, the oldest, but undoubtedly younger than Tawny, wore a very sexy emerald cocktail dress for her hostess duties. It played beautifully against her red hair and green eyes. Tawny hadn’t noticed the attitude in the office, but now, away from Benny’s presence, she seemed more circumspect, as if she were sizing Tawny up and the size