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13
Final Act
Sadie
An unmarked van is stationed two blocks from The Lair. Within, there’s an assembled team with eyes and ears inside the club. Special Agent Proctor has Feds on the inside as well as the outside, and Quinn has the techs linked up to the club surveillance, sending a feed right to the monitors inside the van.
It’s a perfect sting operation—that is, if it weren’t for the fact that it’s completely bogus.
“Are you sure the UNSUB won’t show here?” Quinn asks as he clips a wire to the inside of my dress collar.
I tried to convince him that the wire was unnecessary—that the UNSUB will make sure I discard any monitoring equipment before he approaches me, but Quinn was adamant. I wasn’t leaving his sight until I was bugged. I might’ve been wrong when I thought Carson would suffer the most; Quinn has never been able to accept anything less than orderly. And this scheme is anything but organized.
“This place is crawling with FBI,” I say, noting an agent trying and failing to pass himself off as a member of a BDSM club. Dressed in all vinyl, he sports a chain belt with handcuff buckle. If my insides weren’t numb with adrenaline, I might laugh. “One sure-fire way to keep a suspect away? Send in the FBI. If I can spot them, the UNSUB already knows they’re here. Besides, you did a good job of leaking the operation around the department. He knows where the set-up is happening.”
Quinn lowers his hands from my dress with an audible exhale. “Tell me again how you know this will work?”
“I relayed a message to him in my text. Something only he would understand and the Feds wouldn’t. Trust me, Quinn,” I say, locking gazes. “This will work. It has to.” Because Avery is out of time.
Agent Proctor didn’t question what “You know where” referred to in my text to the UNSUB. Since The Lair is the only common denominator linking most of the victims together, I let the assumption slide.
“I just can’t believe Proctor thinks this obvious stakeout will get past anyone.” I right my dress collar, and look up when Quinn doesn’t respond. “What is it?”
His mouth creases into a tight frown. “My gut doesn’t like it. I think you should go ahead with the botched operation—”
“And leave Avery to suffer longer? Or worse…die? Avery needs this to happen, Quinn.” Despite my own hesitations, I grab his hand, sending a sure pulse to his palm. I stay latched onto him until his hazel eyes warm. “Just keep Proctor and his team focused on The Lair, giving the techs enough time to run the DNA through the database. Trust the plan. Trust me.”
Even though I mean every word, know that I don’t have a choice but to succeed—I can’t let Quinn see the fear harboring just below my surface. My plan only gets me face-to-face with the UNSUB. What then? Despite my past, regardless of what I’ve done, I don’t know how this will end.
With a deep breath, Quinn nods. “Get your ass in there before lover boy starts to freak out.”
I can’t help it, I smile. Only the small relief doesn’t last nearly long enough. Quinn’s grip on my hand loosens, and before I can say anything, he walks away. I wait for him to send me a signal that once this is over, we’ll be okay. But he doesn’t look back, and I feel the loss of his protection.
I’m truly on my own.
From my spot on the corner of the building, I watch the pro—my doppelganger—be escorted into the van. Besides Carmen, she’s the only person who’s possibly seen the UNSUB and can make an identification.
Making sure Proctor and the team see me go into the club, I walk straight through the front doors. If I didn’t already feel like a spotlight was beaming right on me, as soon as I enter onto the main level, it’s as if I’m walking onto a stage.
I slink past dancing bodies on my way to the bar. I get a curious glare from Agent Rollins at the other end, but I nod to the bartender, ignoring his assessment. She sets the shot of bourbon in front of me and I throw it back with force.
One for the nerves before I commit to this.
Letting the burn of alcohol warm my insides, I push away from the bar top and weave my way toward the spiral staircase. The beat of house music reverberates through my chest, pushing my feet faster up every step.
One of the bouncers nods for me to pass. I reach the office door, and Colton has it open before I knock.
“I saw you coming,” he says as he rests his hand at the small of my back and leads me in. “Let’s make this quick.”
A petite UC agent stands beside Carson in the middle of the office. She greets me with a nod and an easy smile that feels at odds with this meeting. But I move hurriedly, unzipping the side of my dress and pushing it down my body.
Colton clears his throat. I look up to see him send Carson a stern glare. With an exasperated sigh, Carson turns to face the wall of monitors. “Nothing I haven’t seen before,” he says.
“Not from her, you haven’t.” Colton takes the dress as I hand it off to him, swapping it out for the satin one he dressed me in at my apartment. Even now, as he helps me slide it over my head, I feel his hands and mouth claiming my body.
The UC agent slips into my dress, allowing Carson to help her zip into it. From the back, she can pass as me. Her makeup and hair are a match, and in the dim lighting of the club, with agents that have only seen me during short periods, she can pull this off.
I step toward her and push the wire Quinn taped to my dress under the collar. “Be careful,” I tell her.
