High-heeled Wonder (A Killer Style Novel) (Entangled Ignite) (10 page)

Chapter Fifteen

“You have to give the little divas something.”

—Christian Siriano

If Tony had any doubts about Anders Bloom’s douchebaggery, taking three steps inside his high-priced boutique would have extinguished them. The man had four-feet-tall Andy Warhol–style photos of himself all over the store. A close-up hung over the cash register, manned by a pink-haired clerk whose eyes rounded when she spotted Sylvie. A full-body shot of Anders took up the dressing room door that opened for a Hitchcock blond trying on a dress from the designer’s latest collection. A framed profile as tall as a hockey net covered the wall behind a display of shoes. The price tag of a single pair probably equaled Tony’s monthly mortgage.

He hadn’t felt so out of place since he’d accidentally walked into his middle school’s women’s restroom in seventh grade. Seeing Mrs. Ricci adjusting her bra had done all sorts of things to improve his ability to stay awake during her algebra class…if not his final grade.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the High-Heeled Wonderbitch herself.” Anders glared down at them, leaning against the rail of a balcony-like landing at the top of a staircase going to the second-floor offices. The designer had a bird’s-eye view of the store from his lofty position and had probably spotted them as soon as they walked in.

To her credit, Sylvie didn’t immediately flip him off, which was pretty much the response Tony expected after her slash-and-burn conversation with Worthington. He nudged her with an elbow, praying she’d take the hint and keep it friendly. They needed to get into Anders’s office. Not that he expected the designer to tell them anything useful. No, the reason he needed up there was a listening device burning a half-inch-square hole in his pocket.

“Looks like you forgot your tacky High-Heeled Wonder boots, Sylvie girl.” Anders’s smug tone grated. “Judging by your past comments about my designs, I don’t think you’ll find anything here to replace them.”

Sylvie slanted Tony a glance and picked up a metallic silver pair of display shoes emblazoned with a magenta-hued image of Anders on the toe. “Finally, something we agree on.”

Tony’s toes began to itch. He needed to take control of this interview before the whole thing went sideways. “Mr. Bloom, we’d like to have a moment of your time, if we could?”

“Aren’t you a polite one? Does your new boy toy play for my team, too, Sylvie?” He delivered the dig without sparing her a glance. “Because he is downright yummy and I’m always in the mood for bear.”

Sylvie stiffened.

Shit
. “Invite us up and you can ask me yourself,” Tony said quickly, before she lost it.

Anders’s booming laugh drowned out the ear-bleedingly-bad dance music coming from the store’s speakers. “Marvin, bring them up. I do love a man with a little fire.” His lips flattened. “And I do mean a little.”

With a bitchy little shrug, Anders pivoted off the landing and disappeared through a set of French doors.

Two side-by-side kaleidoscope images of Anders on a nearby wall split to reveal the interior of a stark-white elevator. A man dressed in a black suit stood in the back corner. Marvin, no doubt. He had the width of a linebacker and the height of an NBA all-star. Anders obviously spent some coin on his personal bodyguard. The only people who did that were paranoids and those with a long list of devoted enemies. Which category applied to Anders?

Tony floated the idea of letting Sylvie know about the wireless transmitter in his pocket, but some things were best left on a need-to-know basis. Between this and the origins of the first e-mails to the High-Heeled Wonder, there were a lot of things she didn’t know. Not yet. And he didn’t want to think about her reaction when she discovered the truth.

He and Sylvie crossed the elevator threshold and the doors swooshed shut. Ten seconds later they walked into Anders’s studio. The space was smaller than Tony had expected. Two long tables dominated the room, one of which was stacked high with bright fabrics and several clear plastic bins filled with buttons and zippers. The rev of a sewing machine hummed away at the opposite side of the room. Clothing hung on racks next to a closed door.

Marvin nodded toward it. “He’s in his office. Follow me.”

Anders sat behind his desk, framed by the French doors that led out to the landing overlooking the store. The cramped space lacked any other furniture, but the sun’s rays streamed in from a skylight, highlighting the purplish streaks in Anders’s hair. The dye job may have been his trademark, but it only exaggerated his gaunt, clammy skin. He turned his bloodshot, dilated eyes on them. “So, do you feel free now that you’re out of the closet, or are you regretting all your bitchery?”

Sylvie didn’t even twitch. “Does it matter?”

“God, yes. Inquiring minds and all.” He steepled his fingers, tapping the tips against his chin.

Taking advantage of Anders’s focus on Sylvie, Tony slipped the transmitter out of his pocket and palmed the device. The size of a postage stamp, the black plastic stick-on device could be hidden anywhere, but he needed it on the desk for the best reception. Anders’s desk was piled high with squares of fabric, colored pencils, sketch pads, a telephone, and a computer. He needed to stick the micro-transmitter to something that wouldn’t be going anywhere.

“I didn’t out myself. Someone did that for me.” Sylvie’s voice cracked on the last words.

“Now, doesn’t that just break my heart? As if. Count me in the camp that’s thrilled your secret is out.”

Tony flicked off the transmitter’s protective coating with his thumbnail and casually leaned against the corner of the desk. His hand landed just behind the computer monitor. Perfect.

He stuck the transmitter to the monitor’s underside. It wouldn’t go undetected forever, but should be good long enough for his purposes.

Mission complete, he turned to the next order of business and asked Anders in a deliberately accusatory voice, “How long have you known Sylvie was the High-Heeled Wonder?”

Rolling back his chair, Anders slid his dead-eyed gaze to Tony. “Eons now. Her little friend Ivy let that slip when she fell off the wagon. How is our girl doing, by the way?”

“Just fine,” Sylvie gritted out, not falling for the dig.

“I take it you two reconnected?” Anders’s expression was snide. “Amazing. The way she tells it, you abandoned her once your site made it to the big time. She’s quite bitter.”

“And you took advantage of that, didn’t you?” she muttered.

“I only take what’s offered.” Anders stood and leaned forward with his palms flat on the desk. “But I’m in a generous mood today, so this time let me offer you something—good advice. Shut that stupid blog down.”

Tony couldn’t have asked for a better opening to really set the designer off. “She can’t. Someone has hacked into it. You wouldn’t happen to know who’s behind that?” he asked belligerently.

“Me?” Anders stumbled back, blinking rapidly. His skin turned a mottled red. “Why, I can barely get my wireless printer to work.”

Guilt, or surprise? Unease tickled the back of Tony’s neck. “Where were you Monday morning around eleven?”

Anders pulled a white handkerchief from the pocket of his silver-striped pants. He took his time unfolding it and then blew his nose. After giving the results a look-see, he refolded the handkerchief and stuffed it back in his pocket. “Visiting suppliers, not that it’s any of your business.”

Just the kind of alibi that left a lot of wiggle room. “Can anyone confirm that?”

“I’m sure they could, but this interview is over.” Anders pushed a button on his phone. “Marvin, our guests are no longer welcome. Please show them out.”

Marvin appeared in the doorway almost before his boss had finished uttering the order. After another ten-second elevator ride, the bodyguard ushered them out with a curt warning not to return.

“That wasn’t exactly productive.” Sylvie fished a pair of sunglasses out of her bag as they hustled through the store.

“I wouldn’t say that.” As soon as they crossed the doorway and emerged on the sidewalk, Tony took out his cell phone, hit mute, and dialed the number associated with the SIM card implanted in the transmitter.

Anders voice came through loud and clear. “I said get her on the phone. Now!”

Tony hung up and texted the go signal to Cam so he could monitor the voice traffic from Maltese Security’s office com center.

“What was that all about?” Sylvie asked.

He could lie to her, but the deceptions had started to come too easy. His self-disgust grew with every heartbeat, weighing him down. “I planted a bug in his office.”

She blinked. “Isn’t that illegal?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?” The question came out gruffer than Tony had intended and she jumped. He frowned. “What’s wrong?”

Throngs of people swarmed around them, hurrying on their lunch breaks, but for Tony, Sylvie was the only other person in the world at that moment. When he’d sent that first anonymous e-mail, she’d been an unknown entity. He’d been so obsessed with finding Keith’s killer that the line between right and wrong had all but disappeared. She had been his means to an end. Bile tickled the back of his throat.

As she stood before him, the spring breeze teased her tawny hair away from her face. The truth seemed so obvious. Smart, loyal, and sexy as hell, Sylvie Bissette was beyond what he’d ever expected…or what he deserved. He’d done the wrong thing for the right reason—to bring Keith’s killer to justice.

He hadn’t meant for this to happen.

He hadn’t meant to fall for the High-Heeled Wonder.

The store doors whooshed open and the pink-haired sales clerk hurried out. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on, but I overheard enough to know something’s happening. Take this.” She shoved a brass key into Sylvie’s hand. “It opens a secret door behind Anders’s picture by the shoes. We all know there’s a room back there, but everyone pretends it doesn’t exist. The last girl who asked about it stopped showing up for shifts. The manager said she’d quit. Anders dropped the key when he came in this morning. I don’t think he realizes it’s gone.”

“Why give it to me?”

The girl bit her lip. “I won’t be able to slip you tips for your blog anymore. I got a new job, and after today’s shift I’m walking away from this fucked-up place for good.”

Sylvie stared at the key in her palm. “What’s in the room?”

The girl glanced over her shoulder toward the store. “You’ll have to see for yourself. I’ve already taken enough risks. For what it’s worth,” she added, “I know you didn’t write that horrible stuff yesterday.” She nodded her head and hightailed it inside.

Desperate for something to focus on besides his own failings, Tony swiped the key out of Sylvie’s grasp. “Come on, let’s go discover Anders’s big, bad secret.”

The salesgirl acted as their lookout, guiding Tony and Sylvie from one security camera blind spot to another in the store until they arrived eye-to-oversized-eye with Bloom’s picture. Tony slid his fingers along the frame’s edge until he found the lock. He inserted the key and the mechanism clicked open.

The door swung inward on silent hinges.

A vast, dark expanse stretched before them for at least twenty-five feet. The only relief in the shadowy landscape was a small, dirt-caked window at the far corner letting in a strangled ray of light. One entry. One exit. Everything else remained an unknown entity. His toes itched.

“Hurry up,” the girl urged. “They’ll be down any minute to go to lunch.”

A quiet vibration thrummed in the walls—Anders’s private elevator.

Adrenaline pumping, Tony sneaked into the secret room. Sylvie slipped in after him. The door snapped shut, leaving them in the inky black.

Damn, what he wouldn’t do for his night-vision goggles about now.

“Tell me you have a plan for this that doesn’t involve sitting down to a meal first.”

“Smartass.”

“Yeah, I’m like that when I’m locked in a pitch-dark secret room in the lair of the enemy.”

His eyes adjusting to the dark, he made out a desk, couch, and filing cabinets. “It seems to be some sort of office.”

“Why would he need two offices?”

“Must be where he runs his other business.” Tony fished his phone out of his pocket, activated the flashlight app, and took a step forward. The overhead florescent lights flickered, triggered by some sort of motion sensor, he presumed.

The room had a Spartan setup. A desk and chair on one side of the long, narrow room and a leather couch on the other. A six-drawer filing cabinet stood in the near corner.

Sticking close the wall, he checked the corners and blind spots before venturing farther into the secret office, scouting out the whole space. Adrenaline ebbing, he returned to Sylvie.

“If I say run, get your ass out through that window and call Ryder. If you can’t escape, fight like hell until I can get to you. Remember that old FBI beauty pageant movie? Solar plexus, instep, nose, groin.”

She gave him a
well-duh
look. “I’m a fashion blogger. I have that movie memorized.” She went to the desk, flipped on the computer, and started rifling through drawers. The computer screen blinked on. She glanced at it and gasped.

“What is it?” he asked, coming over to look.

“It’s an Excel spreadsheet. He’s got people’s names listed in one column with…shit, their kinks in another.” She scrolled down. “Oh, my God.” She dropped into the chair. “There’s another list of names, mostly women, and the column next to it shows ages and… prices?”

Prices? As in—

Suddenly, the awful truth hit him square in the gut.

“Fucking hell. He’s a human trafficker.” He’d known the guy was an arrogant asshole, but this—God, he hoped the bastard fried.

Her eyes widened and she stood up abruptly, backing away from the screen as if to get as much distance between herself and the ugly reality.