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“Gord,” I bite out between tight teeth. Then I wrap my arm around Cora’s trim hips and sell my role more. “Vallejo’s incoming.”
“Shit.” He turns his girl with a simple hand on her thigh and pulls her down to straddle his lap. She does her job well and rides him closer until his face is basically buried between her tits; her long hair creates a curtain of sorts, shielding him from outsiders. “Talk to me, Banks.”
“Twenty feet out,” I murmur. “He’s carrying, and so are his men. Henry?”
“We’re not bringing him in for carrying a concealed weapon,” my father responds. “We’re here for the product. You gotta get eyes on the bulk shipment before we make a move. We’ve tracked small-time dealers for eighteen months already. We followed them up the line, and now we’re onto Vallejo. I intend to shut him down. Which means we need shipments. We need transport. We need an in. Become his best friend or find yourself a soldier who’ll flip for you.”
“For fuck’s sake.”
“Drake?” Gordon mumbles, his voice becoming tenser. “Eyes?”
“Fifteen feet.” I drag Cora closer despite her muscles tensing up. We’re not supposed to touch. She has a right to dance without being manhandled. But I need her to take the asshole’s focus from my partner, so I pull her closer and bite out a grunt when she slides against my weapon and squeaks in the back of her throat. “Just be cool,” I whisper by her ear. “Keep dancing, and I’ll get you home safe and a little richer.”
“What the fuck is going on?” She spins in my lap and straddles me the way Gordon’s girl straddles him. She grinds and rides, her arms going up and her long hair tickling my hand. “Who the hell are you?” she growls.
“Special Agent Drake Banks.” I place one hand on the small of her back to support her weight while she dances, and keep the other close to my weapon as Vallejo wanders closer. Though every step he takes, someone else moves into his path and tries to become his buddy. “DEA,” I whisper.
“What?!” She shoves back from my lap and snarls. “All this time?”
“Just doing my job.” I pull her in again and slip a twenty in her thong. “Just like you’re doing yours. If you keep dancing, I’ll keep paying. You go home tonight with your rent paid for the month, and I go home without a bullet in the back of my head.”
“You’ve been coming here for ages,” she hisses. But she dances. She accepts her part in our charade and smiles for the cameras. “You’ve been funneling taxpayer money into a dirty club for months already.”
“Intoyourbank account,” I snort. Then I glance past her and lock eyes with Vallejo. “Fuck.” I drop my gaze and press my lips to the girl’s collarbone. “We’ve made contact,” I murmur for Gord and the team outside. “Eye contact.”
“Good work,” my father rumbles, the always switched on professional. “Now wait for him to come to you. If he doesn’t, that’s fine. We’ll come back tomorrow night and wait. If he does, you’ve got a way in.”
“It’s my anniversary today,” Gordon groans. It’s not the same groan as those coming from other high-spenders near us. Not the same sound any other man might make inside this club. “My girls are waiting for me.”
“Special Agent Fuller,” Henry barks, the sharp sound stinging my ear. “Get your head on straight and see this case through.”
“Easy,” I admonish almost silently. “We’ve been under a long time.” Half of me wants to end my sentence withDad. The other half,Special Agent in Charge Henry Banks. The first feels dumb, and the second is a mouthful I’ve never enjoyed. “We know they discourage sending agents undercover on dates that pose a risk to their mental state. We all knew today was special for Fuller. You pushed for this anyway.”
“It’s okay,” Gord grumbles. “It’s fine.”
“We got intel that Vallejo was bringing in a shipment tonight,” my father snarls. His marriage to the job, to the next mission, to the next takedown and payday, is the reason his marriage to my mother never worked out. “If you want out,” he continues, “then you stand up and walk out right now. You slip more money into those women’s underwear, make your excuses, and go. But be aware that doing so compromises our case and may result in Vallejo’s refusal to allow you entry into his club in the future. We’ve worked for this, Special Agents. We’ve laid the groundwork, so if you—”
“Mister… Donner?” I disconnect my lips from Cora’s collarbone with a suction-like gasp and swing my head around to find GregoryfuckingVallejo on my left, just a foot-and-a-half from where I sit.
Stunned, I follow the line of his body upwards. Past a slick black suit and shined black shoes. His waist is round. His hands, thick and tanned dark. He wears a gold chain around his neck, heavy enough to weigh a lesser person down, and a crisp white shirt, unbuttoned just enough to see a smattering of curly black hair poking out the top.
Swallowing, I bring my gaze up and meet his too-smooth face, dark brown, which is a direct contrast to his almost white hair.
“That is your name, correct?” He tilts his head and raises a single brow as a million thoughts ricochet through my mind. “It is the name on your credit card. And the name you gave Rico.” He casts a glance toward the bar and indicates the bartender I’ve spoken to a handful of times over the last few months.
Gord keeps his head down. His lips busy. And his hand close to his gun, just in case.
“Well?” Vallejo presses impatiently. “Your name?”
“Y-yes.” I pull back from Cora just far enough to free my hand and offer it to the man who towers over me. Though if I stood, I have no doubt it would be him looking up at me. “Chase Donner.” I flash a friendly smile and watch his henchmen on the sides.
Just in case.
“And you are?”
Vallejo laughs. A fast, coughing sound that makes his chest jump and belly roll. But he takes my hand in a tight grip and pumps. “Gregory Vallejo,” he confirms. “I am the owner of this club.”
“Oh! Of course.” I slide Cora off my lap and slowly come up to stand. Non-threatening. No drama. This is just me respecting a man and meeting him eye-to-eye. “I’m sorry I didn’t know.” I finish shaking his hand and extricate mine from his grasp before setting it on my hip. “I’ve heard good things about this club, Mr. Vallejo.”
