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I walk into the seen-better-days twenty-four-hour diner thirty minutes later, the morning light now slowly sweeping over the city. It’s somewhere that’s far enough out that we don’t have to worry about being seen, but despite outward appearances, the food is damn good.
“Hey,” I say as I slide into the booth opposite my handler for this case, grabbing the cup of coffee waiting for me. He's the only reason I agreed to work undercover. The fact he disrupted his life to join the case is something I’ll be forever grateful.
“What's up?” Barrett asks, taking a gulp of his own dishwater-colored drink.
I fiddle with the sugar packets and stirrer before finally meeting his gaze when he pointedly clears his throat. “We've got a big problem.”
Barrett nods, unsurprised. “I figured. It would have to be a good reason to pull me out of bed this early. Is it Decker? Did something happen?”
I shake my head. “No. That was fine, and you were right, I did have to throw some sass and put my foot down—so to speak.”
“Told you,” he replies, puffing his chest out.
“It definitely worked. I’m meeting him for dinner on Thursday at the Phoenix, it’s in the same place as Marquis.”
He levels me with glare. “I know about the Phoenix, Marlee. My wife and I own a hotel, remember?”
“Oh yeah. OK. So—” I ramble.
Barrett frowns. “Spit it out, Marlee. Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it.”
“Aiden's in town.”
The man’s face falls, his expression going from stoney to ice cold. He has his reasons for reacting this way. Goddamn good ones. “Did he contact you?” he growls.
“Nope. He's working a case at Marquis. I was in a booth with Decker when he walked up side by side with Justin Howell. Apparently he’s working at the club as Justin’s right hand man now.”
The air between us turns glacial. “What the fuck?” he growls, a little louder than either one of us expected, earning a few looks from diners around us. “So you’re tanked?”
I roll my eyes. “Obviously not if Decker's taking me out for dinner. Aiden told me his angle is only on the financial stuff. It was just a shock, you know.”
Barrett leans back in his seat, studying me for a moment. “So Aiden made you but he didn’t blow your cover?”
“Considering Decker called me Quinn, of course he made me. And no, he didn’t do anything to put the case in jeopardy.”
His brows furrow. “What's his deal then? Last I heard he was in Seattle and not working in law enforcement. Thank fuck.”
“He's working for Harrison Jones.”
Barrett’s eyes widen before he jerks his chin up. “Makes sense. Doesn't explain why he's in Vegas though. Harry's small time at best and last time I checked, that’s exactly how he likes it.”
“I don't know what’s going on. Aiden says he hasn’t been told who the client is.” The more I think about it, the more perplexed I am. Why would you accept a case and not know who you’re looking into.
“That rings a huge fucking alarm bell for me, Marlee. Say his client is the person before all those offshore shell companies we can’t trace back to anybody? That could be a big lead for us. We’re not looking at the money, we’re looking for the source and a trail to connect Decker to the sins of his past, present, and future.”
I nod. “I know that. All Aiden said was that he’d try and find out what he can.”
Barrett’s eyes turn stormy. “You talked to him? How Marlee? You said your cover wasn’t blown. Fuck!” he says, raking his fingers through his hair. “He’s already got you taking risks again.”
I move past that particular comment. “First of all, fuck you. Second of all, my cover wasn’t and isn’t blown. I tracked him down after his shift.”
One look at Barrett and I swear the top of his head is about to blow. “What the actual fuck! Are you trying to screw this case up already? You’ve been doing so well.”
That gets my anger surging to the surface. “No and I’d love it if you stop treating me with kid gloves while sitting back and waiting for me to fuck this all up. You know this case is important to me. But after seeing him again and our combined pasts—I couldn’t let it go. I needed to know what was going on and I wasn’t going to be able to sleep until then.”
“You followed him?”
I snort. “God, no. I asked an analyst to track down his address and waited at his door for him to come home. What do you take me for, an idiot?”
