Heat and high stakes meet in a steamy Miami reunion romance!

While taking on Miami’s biggest drug kingpin, FBI agent Shaine Kelly is prepared for anything. Except Poppy Jones. Once the woman he shared a life with and now a DEA agent joining his team, Poppy is as brazen as she is beautiful. He tried to protect Poppy once and lost her. Shaine won’t risk it again.

Accepting a mission to infiltrate a criminal’s compound, Poppy wants to prove her prowess in the field…even if it means working with the sexy operative she never got over. As intense desire simmers between them, danger rears its ugly head once again. But this time, Shaine’s life is the one on the line, and it’s up to Poppy to save him before losing him forever…

Poppy’s gaze narrowed. “You don’t believe I have what it takes to be a hotshot like you. Well, I do. I can do this and I’m going to do it.”

The events of that night were etched in his memory, but Poppy bore the scars.

He’d thought taking a bullet would’ve cooled her jets about undercover work but it’d only made her more determined than ever.

That’d been the beginning of the end for them.

Now it was happening all over again, and he was supposed to just let it happen because now it wasn’t any of his business?

Talk about a messed up déjà vu.

But it is what it is.

They weren’t dating. They hadn’t even spoken to each other since the night she bailed.

Up until yesterday when Poppy walked into the debriefing, she’d faded like mist from his life.

So…whatever.

Shaine hailed a cab, telling the cabbie, “Take me to the hottest nightclub in Miami,” and leaned back to get his head on straight.

Time for a little research.

Game play level: professional.

* * *

If you’re on Twitter, tell us what you think of Harlequin Romantic Suspense! #harlequinromsuspense

Dear Reader,

Stories with intrigue, danger and sexual tension are my favorite kind to write. There’s something about immersing myself in a world where bullets fly and the potential of death lurks around every corner that really gets my creativity going.

When I envisioned Deep Cover, I knew it was going to be a wild ride and I hope you agree.

The Kelly brothers are the best kind of men—hot, stoic and protective—which spells danger for the women in their lives.

Set against the sultry Miami background, the idea of two agents, one FBI and another DEA, going undercover to catch a violent crime lord was too tantalizing to pass up.

I hope you love my newest Mills & Boon Romantic Suspense as much as I do.

I love hearing from readers. Connect with me on Facebook, Twitter or drop me an email. Or you can also write me a letter at PO BOX 2210, Oakdale, CA 95361.

Happy reading,

Kimberly

Deep Cover
Kimberly Van Meter

www.millsandboon.co.uk

KIMBERLY VAN METER wrote her first book at sixteen and finally achieved publication in December 2006. She writes for the Harlequin Superromance, Blaze and Romantic Suspense lines. She and her husband of seventeen years have three children, three cats and always a houseful of friends, family and fun.

MILLS & BOON

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter 1

“The kids are calling it Bliss,” began FBI chief Patrick Hobbs as the PowerPoint presentation began in the darkened conference room. Special Agent Shaine Kelly and Special Agent Victoria Stapp were the only ones invited to this debriefing, which told Shaine they were about to get into something interesting. “It’s ten times more potent than Ecstasy and ten times more addictive. Whereas X used to be the drug of choice for trust-fund kids partying on Mommy and Daddy’s money, Bliss is cheaper, easier to find and, as evidenced by the bodies in the morgue with the junk in their system, deadly.”

Chief Hobbs switched to the next frame.

Dead college kids, by the look of their clothes, white drool frozen on their curled lips, as if they’d died in immeasurable pain.

“That’s not a good look on anyone,” Shaine said, eliciting a nod of agreement from Victoria.

“Watch the wisecracks,” Hobbs warned before moving on. “The drug is a ticking time bomb. Users say the high is like an opiate high, without the extreme lethargy. It’s simply...bliss.”

Stapp, a short redhead with a stereotypical redhead’s temper, said, “Sounds better than Xanax. Explains why kids are dying to get their hands on it. So did they OD?”

“In a matter of speaking. That’s what makes Bliss unique. It doesn’t kill you right away. Similar to LSD, the drug remains in the system far longer than the high, which then builds up until the body goes into painful convulsions, ultimately giving the user a massive heart attack.”

The lights flicked on and Shaine briefly squinted against the light. “So where’s it coming from?” he asked. “Colombia? Mexico? Guatemala?”

“Miami.”

“Florida?”

Hobbs nodded. “We suspect someone known as El Escorpion is in charge of the manufacturing and distribution, but we haven’t been able to get proof. No one can get close enough to infiltrate the operation.”

“El Escorpion... Spanish for The Scorpion,” Victoria murmured with a wry grin. “Sounds like the kind of guy you wouldn’t want to screw around with.”

“El Escorpion is the worst kind of criminal—smart, rich and anonymous.”

“What do you mean anonymous?” Shaine asked.

“No one knows who this El Escorpion is. Anyone with that knowledge is either dead or missing. He or she is a ghost with a helluva presence.”

“Convenient. This person could be operating in plain sight, thumbing their nose at authorities,” Shaine said. “So how are we supposed to catch him?” Victoria cleared her throat meaningfully and Shaine dutifully corrected himself, saying, “Or her.”

“Since no one knows who El Escorpion is,” Hobbs said, handing out dossiers, “we’re putting a small, elite, multiagency team together to infiltrate the Miami scene. This undercover detail is highly classified, dangerous and top priority.”

“My favorite—” he started to say, but the door opening stopped him.

Shaine didn’t know the man who entered, but it took all of one horrible, gut-grinding second to realize he knew the woman.

Intimately.

Poppy Jones.

Tall, lithe and built like a Norwegian supermodel with long, straight limbs and blond hair pulled into a tight ponytail, Poppy was hard to forget.

Shaine’s expression remained impassive, though every muscle had just been pulled taut.

“Agents Stapp and Kelly, meet DEA agents Poppy Jones and Marcus West. The DEA will be one of our partner agencies for this operation.”

“Pleased to work with you,” Marcus said briskly, extending a hand out of professional courtesy to both Shaine and Victoria. Of course, Poppy did the same.

Since it was bad form to be openly rude, even if the Queen of Hell had just walked in, Shaine offered a perfunctory greeting, “Yeah, likewise,” and accepted a quick handshake from each.

Two high points of color jumped to Poppy’s porcelain cheeks the moment their hands touched, but otherwise she remained perfectly professional.

As if they hadn’t maintained a covert operation of their own, unbeknownst to their superiors while Poppy was still with the FBI.

As if they hadn’t spent hours bathed in each other’s sweat, reveling in their own stink like drug addicts hunkered down in a run-down hotel, except their drug of choice had been each other.

Prior to this moment, two years had seemed a lifetime ago.

Now...it seemed like yesterday.

Marcus and Poppy took their places at the table and opened their folders. Poppy took point, talking first.

Not surprising.

Poppy had always been a little aggressive.

Shaine had enjoyed that aspect of her personality, particularly between the sheets.

But he hated it any other time.

Particularly on the job.

“From what we’ve been able to ascertain, El Escorpion is working the college-aged users, likely recruiting young college coeds to push the product. We believe with the right undercover agents, we can gain access to the inner circle and find out who El Escorpion is, and how his organization is manufacturing and moving the product.”

“And just who exactly are the right agents for the job?” Shaine asked, his tone more clipped than he intended. If Poppy thought for a second they could work together, she was cracked in the head.

Poppy’s gaze remained cool as she answered, “Two people who can blend into the typical Miami scene. One male, one female. Someone who looks younger than they are.”

Hobbs’s gruff voice cut in. “Let’s get to the point. The deputy chief inspector has chosen agents Jones and West from the DEA and I’ve chosen agents Kelly and Stapp. Agent Stapp, you will be Agent Kelly’s tech support behind the scenes, and Agent West will do the same for his partner. Once in Miami, we will have two contacts within the Miami Police Department. These officers have been thoroughly vetted through private means to ensure that they are not on the payroll of El Escorpion.”

Ah, hell.

Shaine chose to ignore Poppy so he could get his thoughts on the right track. This case was the kind that made or broke careers.

It was also the kind that put agents in the ground.

“For the sake of security,” West said, “our contact in Miami will not meet with us until we land. Agent Stapp and I will stay at an undisclosed and newly acquired safe house, while agents Kelly and Jones will be set up in a different location, more central to the college party scene.”

Hobbs nodded. “If you’ll look in your dossiers, you’ll find a comprehensive list of suspected players. We suggest you start there.”

Shaine thumbed through the sheaf, his mind humming. Undercover work fed his need for adrenaline and he loved it—but he’d rather chew nails than work side by side with Poppy and her pretty boy, Marcus.

“With all due respect, this isn’t my first rodeo. Going deep cover gets risky when there are more players involved. I don’t mind the DEA providing support from behind the scenes, but frankly, dealing with a partner just adds to the risk for everyone involved.”

Not to mention I work better alone.

Poppy offered a brief but chilly smile. “The DEA appreciates your expertise in deep cover operations, Agent Kelly. Your success rate for apprehensions is impressive. However, you’ve gained a reputation for being reckless, which makes you unpredictable. El Escorpion has managed to elude capture for years. It will take more than luck to bring him or her down.”

Shaine held Poppy’s stare, amazed at the balls on the woman. “I’m not sure if I should take your comment as a compliment or an insult,” he said, toying with the pen in his fingers.

“Your choice.” Poppy’s smile returned as if daring him to go a round with her.

Hobbs cleared his throat, sensing the brittle tension growing between Shaine and Poppy. “Let’s remember, we’re all on the same side. El Escorpion is the enemy, not anyone in this room. Private transport has been arranged to Miami at 0600 hours tomorrow. Pack light. A Miami summer is hot, humid and filled with alligators.”

“Sounds like fun,” Poppy quipped, scooping up her folder. “See you tomorrow morning.”

Shaine watched them leave, his one thought being, Poppy will fit right in with the wildlife, before turning to Hobbs.

“What’s the deal with you and that DEA agent?” Hobbs asked, narrowing his gaze. “Is there something I should know?”

“Nope,” he lied.

“Then why are you being so hostile? Those agents are highly trained in their fields and your posturing makes us look bad. This is a high-profile undercover case with a lot of pressure from the higher-ups to get it closed. That means you’re going to put on your good boy pants and do what you’re told.” Hobbs put it bluntly. “Whatever bee you’ve got in your bonnet...squash it.”

“You’re the boss,” Shaine said, mock-saluting Hobbs.

“Try to remember that,” Hobbs growled as he headed out the door. “Damn Kellys. Always a pain in the ass.”

“You must have me mixed up with my brothers, Sawyer or Silas. I’m the nice one, in case you were confused,” Shaine called out, but Hobbs was already gone.

Shaine rubbed at the slick table veneer. Time to focus.

And pretend that the one woman he’d ever loved—and who’d subsequently trashed his heart—wasn’t about to be his partner.

* * *

“What was that all about?” Marcus asked as soon as they left the FBI building. “You know Agent Dickwad or something?”

“No,” Poppy answered quickly, not interested in sharing details. “But I know his type and I don’t have time for his games. He thinks because he’s some brilliant undercover agent that he gets to call all the shots, and that just rubs me the wrong way.”

“I get it, but you have to work with him. We can’t let anything get in the way of this case. If you can’t be objective, you need to bow out.”

Poppy shot Marcus a dark look. “Not going to happen. I worked my ass off to qualify for this case. I’m not about to give it up over some FBI agent with a bloated ego. I’ll be fine.”

She knew Marcus was right and that, unlike her, he was being honest, but there was no way in hell she was walking away from this case, not even if she had to work with the devil himself.

Which in this case, was nearly true.

Shaine Kelly.

Why him?

Because he was, simply, damn good at his job.

Of course, the brass wanted him working this case.

Shaine Kelly closes cases.

Shaine Kelly doesn’t get shot.

A phantom pain pierced her chest at the exact spot where a bullet had ripped through her flesh two years ago, narrowly missing her heart.

She tried not to think about how close she’d come to dying that night. Fear clouded judgment.

And she had a lot to prove.

To whom?

Don’t say Shaine, an inner voice hissed as a familiar hurt threatened to boil to the surface.

Marcus, seemingly satisfied with her answer, moved on. That was what she liked about him—he didn’t dwell or dig. Best quality in a man as far as she could tell.

Too bad he was gay.

“Ever think of transferring to the main headquarters here in Washington?” Marcus asked as they climbed into the rental car to head to their hotel. “The weather is a bitch, but it would be nice to be so close to the movers and shakers, you know?”

“I like Los Angeles,” she answered, which wasn’t entirely true. She hated the frivolous culture and the self-absorbed people that seemed to flock to Hollywood trying to find their big break, but there was no shortage of action in the LA office, which had enabled her to make her own reputation.

Marcus, a transplant from the Seattle division, had his eyes on the chain of command. He made no bones about wanting to move up the ladder. “Closing this case will look damn good on our résumés,” he pointed out with a grin. “I heard there’s a potential opening in the New York field office. It’s not headquarters but it’s a step closer, right?”

“You planning to hop, skip and jump right into the chief deputy’s position?” she joked.

Marcus grinned. “Not saying it isn’t on my radar. Gotta have big dreams, Jones. If your dreams don’t scare you, they ain’t big enough.”

“Such a philosopher. Let’s focus on closing this case first.”

Marcus chuckled, his gray eyes bright with the big dreams in his head, content to let the subject go.

Poppy knew all about big dreams—and their cost.

They say to aim for the moon, for even if you miss you’ll land among the stars. But what they don’t tell you is that what goes up, must come down, and the landing was a bitch.

Leaving Shaine was necessary, but it’d hurt more than taking that bullet.

But she couldn’t stay with someone who wouldn’t treat her as an equal.

She’d spent her life being treated as arm candy.

When she’d announced her intention to join the FBI, her family hadn’t supported her decision, saying she was too pretty to take on a job like that.

Her father, an old-school type with decidedly archaic beliefs, had been dismissive.

That’s not the future for you. God blessed you with a beautiful face. Find a good man to take care of you. Treat you right.

She hated saying that being considered beautiful was a burden because people tended to think she was being falsely modest, but it was true.

The irony was that she’d fought to be seen as a good agent because of her skills, but the biggest case of her career thus far would hinge upon her ability to use her looks to her advantage.

Time to put that pretty face to work for more than being someone’s trophy.

No one was going to take this opportunity from her.

Especially not Shaine Kelly.

Chapter 2

The plane touched down in Miami and they were immediately whisked away in a nondescript black SUV to the debriefing at a secure location.

The small room, located in a government building disguised as an insurance office, was cramped with everyone inside.

Introductions were brief and to the point, with Chief Hobbs doing the introducing via video call.

“I’ll call your names, you raise your hands. This ain’t no tea party and there’s no time for a meet and greet. Miami police officers Richard York and Ben Rocha, DEA agents Marcus West and Poppy Jones, FBI special agents Shaine Kelly and Victoria Stapp, Miami DEA contact Rosa Ramirez.” Murmured greetings were exchanged and Hobbs continued, “From here out, Ramirez will be your primary on-scene superior. Ramirez will be in constant contact with me via videoconference. She will handle all immediate concerns regarding the investigation. Any questions?”

No one ventured a comment and Hobbs took that as a cue to turn the meeting over to Rosa.

“Thank you, Chief Hobbs,” Rosa began, a no-nonsense woman with slicked back dark hair pulled into a tight bun. “This is the biggest covert operation in recent history, and we’re anxious for a successful end to this El Escorpion character.”

Rosa gestured to the packets on the table. “For the agents going undercover, you’ll find IDs, cash and backstories for your covers. Officers York and Rocha will be your only contacts inside the Miami PD for obvious reasons. We know there are cops on the take, but we haven’t figured out who. York and Rocha have been determined to be trustworthy.”

“And who vetted them?” Shaine asked. When his life was on the line, he didn’t care about being nice.

Rosa smiled. “Ahh, Special Agent Shaine Kelly. I’ve heard about you. Smart, fearless...a chameleon in the field.”

“Guilty as charged,” Shaine said with a grin.

But Rosa wasn’t finished. “Also known for having an issue with authority. Let’s be frank, Agent Kelly...the reason you’re here is that your ability to close cases outweighs your undesirable qualities. But make no mistake, eyes are on you, so watch yourself.”

Shaine caught the tiny, infinitesimal twitch of Poppy’s lips and his own thinned, though he chose to remain quiet.

So Rosa Ramirez wasn’t a fan.

Great.

Nothing like your direct superior looking for reasons to toss you out.

Rosa moved on briskly. “The Scorpion has been a thorn in Miami’s side for years, but until now the product of choice was always the usual, heroin or meth. This new drug is lethal, cheap and moving quickly. It’s the new cash crop, and unless we put a stop to it here, it will spread. We could have an epidemic within months. That’s not going to happen. We’re counting on this team to bring The Scorpion to justice. Please open your packets.”

Paper rustling was the only sound in the room as they quickly read through the details.

Shaine and Poppy would pose as twentysomething college kids. Shaine would bartend at a popular upscale bar and strip club, Lit, while Poppy would be a dancer.

A strip club? Poppy didn’t outwardly react, but he suspected her gut was churning. He knew Poppy didn’t have hang-ups about her body, but she wasn’t an exhibitionist, either.

Poppy’s attention was focused on the paper in front of her, but the absent way she chewed her bottom lip told him her thoughts were elsewhere.

“The idea is to blend into the scene where Bliss is commonly found. The dealers are like sharks circling the chum. It’s your job to seek out the higher level dealers to get close to anyone who knows El Escorpion’s identity. Once we discover a name, phase two will start, which is why we need a male and a female undercover agent. You must be willing to do whatever it takes to get this information. Are you up to that challenge?”

“Not a problem for me,” Shaine answered, looking pointedly at Poppy.

“Nor is it for me,” Poppy replied coolly, adding, “Looks like all those dancing classes in my childhood are going to finally pay off.”

“You’re sure about that?” Shaine asked, not buying her answer.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Poppy returned with a dispassionate expression. “Do you feel you can handle being a bartender?”

“All right, all right, settle down. We’re all on the same team. Like I said, the bar is upscale, so it’s not going to be some seedy place with sticky tables. Full nudity is not required, though many of the girls finish with a topless number.”

“Again, I’m fine with it,” Poppy assured Ramirez, dismissing Shaine’s comment.

“Good.” Rosa seemed pleased. “You are dismissed to settle in. Tomorrow is your first day of work. Remember, you’re college kids looking for a good time. Leave your law enforcement persona behind. These people are pros. They can smell a cop from a mile away.”

Shaine smirked. “Like I said...not my first rodeo. This is the fun part.”

Rosa said, “Both Kelly and Jones will have separate cars, but a rental is outside to take you to the location where your cars will be assigned. It may seem as though these are extraneous precautions, but we can’t take the chance of an overlooked loophole.”

He went to grab the keys to the rental car, but Poppy beat him to it.

“I’ll drive,” Poppy said, snatching the keys. “Being a passenger makes me carsick.”

Since when?

The little liar.

He always used to drive.

But someone was proving a point.

“Be my guest,” he said, following her out the door.

Yeah, this was going to suck.

Thanks a lot for ruining what could’ve been a cool undercover gig, Poppy Jones.

* * *

Having Shaine in the car was unnerving. Her plan had been to treat him like any other undercover agent.

Dispassionate.

Professional.

But the humid air lifted the scent of his skin straight to her nose and she was awash with memories.

Her breath caught.

No. She wasn’t going to do that—no going backward.

Do the job. Stay focused. Be chill.

As it turned out, Shaine broke the unbearable silence first.

“How’d you get this gig?” he asked.

“The usual way. Working harder than everyone else. Harder than every other man in my way.”

“Still the ballbuster. Glad to see some things never change.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. I’ve changed plenty. I no longer care what small-minded people think of me.”

“Whoa, right out the barrel, an insult. I was trying to make polite conversation.”

“Right. You forget I know you, Shaine. You don’t do polite and you certainly don’t do idle conversation. Your question was a dig at me. A bit passive-aggressive for my taste, but you got your point across.”

“Since you seem to know the inner workings of my mind, why don’t you enlighten me with what I was thinking when I passive-aggressively asked you a polite question,” he suggested, his tone laced with sarcasm. “Personally, I thought I was being nice to a person who certainly didn’t deserve my niceness.”

Why was she arguing with him? Two seconds into an enclosed space alone and they were ripping into each other. She was not about to let her personal feelings about Shaine ruin the biggest case of her life.

“Just stop. We need to get into character. We are not Poppy Jones and Shaine Kelly, former lovers. We are two college kids without a care in the world, ready for a good time. Let’s keep to the script, shall we?”

“And what if I don’t think you’re up for this part?”

“Oh, that old argument again? Please, get some new material—that bit is tired.”

“I’m not kidding around. You’re not ready to take on a case like this. You can’t even be around me without switching to bitch-mode. How are you supposed to pull off melting into someone else’s skin when you can’t even handle your own?”

Poppy’s cheeks heated with embarrassment. Swallowing the bile that’d risen in her throat, she said stiffly, “I didn’t expect you to be on this case. It’s just taken me a minute to adjust. I worked my ass off to get on to this detail and nothing is going to keep me from closing it. Not even you. So if that means I have to pretend that there’s no history between us, I’ll find a way to do it.”

“You sure you can?”

This time she had the wherewithal to send him a withering glance. “Yes,” she answered. “I’ve managed to put you in my past before, I can do it again.”

“Good,” Shaine said. “Maybe that’ll keep you from getting shot this time.”

“Now who can’t let go of the past?” she retorted, freshly irritated even though she knew she needed to put a cap on it. “I’m not the only agent who’s been shot in the line of duty.”

“No. But you were the only one I was in love with,” Shaine said.

“That was a long time ago.”

“Yeah, it was.”

“So don’t bring it up again. I’m a better agent today than I was then. Leave it at that.”

Shaine accepted her answer with a short nod and did, indeed, leave it, which was surprising. To her memory, Shaine rarely let anyone else have the final word—on that topic.

Only because he had another bone to pick.

“You really think you can pull off being a stripper?” he asked.

“And why is that so hard to believe?”

“Because you’re more modest than most. You wore a one-piece to the beach.”

“I also wore a hat. Skin cancer is no joke. It had nothing to do with my comfort level. If the ozone layer wasn’t an issue, I’d run around naked if I could.”

“Oh, c’mon, who are you trying to convince? Me or yourself? This is dangerous, Poppy.”

His condescension scraped against her nerves. “It kills you that I’m on this team, not because of my qualifications, but because of our history. If anyone can’t let go of the past, it’s you,” Poppy said.

“Honey, I let go a long time ago,” he disagreed. “I just don’t feel like dying because you don’t know what you’re doing. There’s an art to going deep cover and I don’t think you have what it takes.”

Poppy resisted the urge to snap back. He was baiting her purposefully.

What an ass.

“Well, thankfully, you’re not in charge and it wasn’t your call. I’m here... Get used to it.”

Shaine shook his head as if he wasn’t going to waste more time arguing and she was glad. She didn’t know how much longer she could keep her cool and the last thing she wanted to do was give Shaine any kind of valid reason to have her tossed from the case.

They arrived at the apartment fourplex, a gray building with nothing charming or exciting about it, and walked around to the back where the two apartments they were to occupy were situated.

From a defensive standpoint, the place was deceptively secure, which was why it was owned by the Miami DEA office as the newest safe house used for informants needing a place to hide before their testimony.

There were also hidden cameras in the narrow alleyway that fed into the four apartments so no one could sneak up on anyone inside.

No more words were exchanged as they each disappeared into their apartments.

Poppy set her suitcase down and took a minute to compose herself.

Damn it.

Around Shaine she devolved into someone she swore she’d never be.

Surveying her new living environment, she saw it’d already been decorated to reflect the tastes of someone much younger, which was the part she was playing.

Shabby chic, repurposed furniture, a thrift-store sofa and a few picture frames featuring people she didn’t know were placed here and there.

This operation was costing a pretty penny.

Everyone expected results.

“So failure isn’t an option,” she murmured to herself as a reminder. “Time to get your game face on.”

Suddenly a door, which she’d assumed was a closet, opened and Shaine walked in.

“What the hell?” she exclaimed, not expecting Shaine to walk into her living room.

“Adjoining rooms,” he explained, surprised himself.

“Is there a lock?” she asked. The last thing she wanted was Shaine Kelly traipsing through her living room as if he had the right.

“Looks similar to a hotel room door.” He showed her how to lock it and then exited again. The sound of him locking the door from his side made her exhale. Had she actually been holding her breath?

Okay, so it made sense to have an adjoining room, for safety purposes if the DEA was housing someone who needed protection, but she could take care of herself.

Poppy grabbed her suitcase and went to the bedroom, finding more shabby chic, girly stuff—stuff for someone who was stuck between wanting to be an adult and still wanting to be a kid.

But she supposed that was pretty much what some college girls felt like.

Not that she had.

She’d been more than happy to leave behind all that crap.

Opening her closet she saw clothes already chosen to match her cover story.

Poppy lifted a skimpy shirt from the rack and frowned at how barely there it was.

Sure, she could pull it off, but it’d been a long time since she’d purposefully worn something so revealing.

Shaine’s earlier comment about the one-piece bathing suit came back to poke at her. Okay, so she preferred tailored suits to string bikinis and microminis. Sue me.

Poppy liked to leave something to the imagination, but there was no hiding the goods in these outfits.

“Good Lord,” Poppy murmured in faint distress as she pulled a tiny dress from the closet. A tight, formfitting number with a cutout where her cleavage would show, she wondered how she was supposed to wear a bra with this thing.

Or underwear for that matter.

Even a damn panty line would show.

Oh, well.

Her new motto was, “When in Miami...do as the party girls do.”

Time to make some friends.

Chapter 3

Rosa Ramirez was Miami born and bred and she’d made it her business to clean up her beautiful city.

When the opportunity came around to take down El Escorpion, she didn’t hesitate, but in truth, this operation had been a long time coming.

And she wasn’t blind to the fact that if a certain senator’s daughter hadn’t gotten herself doped up on Bliss and put on life support from her last party, taking down that piece of shit drug dealer wouldn’t have gotten so much attention.

But Rosa never looked a gift horse in the mouth.

The operation was in play and she was going to see it succeed.

But she had a bad feeling in her gut about some of the people involved.

Mainly Agent Kelly and DEA agent Jones.

Now, she hated to think one of her own might be dirty, but El Escorpion had a long reach and a deep pocket.

Times are hard, people slip.

All it takes is once.

One agreement to look the other way for a handful of cash and you were hooked.

Cash was a persuasive bargaining tool.

Rosa had seen too many good agents get caught up in bad shit because the allure of quick cash was too hard to ignore.

She poured herself two fingers of scotch and nursed it while reading the personnel files of both Kelly and Jones.

Both were exceptionally nice to look at—something Rosa hadn’t been graced with—not that it mattered to her.

Rosa was the job and the job was her.

And she was good with that.

But even Rosa had to admit Shaine Kelly had that enigmatic quality of a bad boy wearing a badge, with a devil-may-care attitude that instantly drew women like a flower bathed in pollen drew bees.

Dark, wavy hair, deep blue eyes—shit, this guy was sex on a stick.

Rosa flicked away Kelly’s file and picked up Jones’s.

White-blond hair like a fairy-tale princess, long, lean body and cornflower blue eyes. California prom queen material.

It should be a cosmic law that if graced with physical perfection, they couldn’t also be smart and well accomplished.

Hell, bitter much?

Rosa sighed at her own thoughts, ready to call it a night when something in Jones’s file caught her eye.

Shot on the job.

Now, that’s interesting. Rosa sat a little straighter.

Bullet to the chest; missed the heart by inches.

“You’ve got a guardian angel, kid,” Rosa murmured before sipping her scotch.

Savoring the burn in her throat, she leaned back in her chair to read the details of the operation that’d gotten Jones shot.

First undercover gig with the FBI.

Rough start.

Then she left the FBI to work for the DEA in Los Angeles.

Rosa double-checked which FBI office she worked for—Washington.

Same as Kelly.

Coincidence?

True, the FBI headquarters was huge. It was possible to work in the same office and never know every employee there.

But two highly skilled undercover agents?

What were the odds of that?

Rosa didn’t believe in coincidences.

Her hunch had been that Jones and Kelly were hiding something.

And her hunches were rarely wrong.

Was Hobbs aware that Jones was from Washington?

Likely not.

Hobbs was relatively new—transferred in from the New York office when the previous chief retired.

And clearly, neither Kelly nor Jones had been eager to cough up the information.

Which meant, they had history they were trying to hide.

Rosa finished her scotch.

That wasn’t going to work.

No secrets. No hiding.

The stakes were too high to mess around with unknown variables.

She wasn’t one to knee-jerk react, but she was very good at watching and waiting. In her experience, people revealed their biases, prejudices and their dirty laundry if you were patient. All she had to do was watch and wait.

And if it turned out that Kelly and Jones were hiding something, they’d be on the first plane back to where they came from.

Rosa Ramirez didn’t mess around.

* * *

Shaine finger combed his hair, grabbed his wallet and fake ID and headed out.

There was no way he was going to sit in that apartment all night, stewing about the fact that he couldn’t shake the certainty that Poppy was in over her head in some lame attempt to prove something.

She was an adult.

And capable of making her own decisions—she’d made that abundantly clear when she’d walked out on him.

If she got herself shot again, why should he worry about her welfare? All he owed her was the same amount of professional courtesy that he would give any agent.

Undercover work was risky business.

Not everyone was cut out for it.

It wasn’t that Poppy was weak or afraid. She lacked that certain something—intuition—that guided an undercover agent and kept them from getting killed.

A good undercover agent knew when to cut bait and run and when to bluff.

Shaine could take things to the edge and stare down into the abyss without fearing a fall.

Poppy just had crazy determination and a thirst for adventure.

Hell, he’d liked that about her.

Until she’d started going undercover.

Then, he’d hated it.

Because that didn’t keep you alive.

“I can do this,” Poppy had insisted. “Lachlan doesn’t know I’m wearing a wire and he has no reason to suspect it, either.”

“The intel is bad,” Shaine had nearly shouted, wanting to grab her by the shoulders and shake her stubborn head off. “Can’t you tell that you’ve been made? Why else would Lachlan invite you back to his place even after someone recognized you?”

“I’ll slip in, grab the file and be gone. It’ll be quick. Lachlan is having a huge party. He’ll be too busy to even think about me.”

“You’re naive, Poppy. Don’t go. My gut is saying he’s luring you into a trap.”

Poppy’s gaze narrowed. “You don’t believe I have what it takes to be a hotshot like you. Well, I do. I can do this and I’m going to do it.”

The events of that night were etched in his memory, but Poppy bore the scars.

He’d thought taking a bullet would’ve cooled her jets about undercover work, but it’d only made her more determined than ever.

That’d been the beginning of the end for them.

Now it was happening all over again and he was supposed to just let it happen because now it wasn’t any of his business?

Talk about a messed up déjà vu.

But it is what it is.

They weren’t dating. They hadn’t even spoken to each other since the night she bailed.

Up until yesterday when Poppy walked into the debriefing, she’d faded like mist from his life.

So...whatever.

Shaine hailed a cab, telling the driver, “Take me to the hottest nightclub in Miami,” and leaned back to get his head on straight.

Time for a little research.

Game play level: professional.

Chapter 4

Poppy heard the door on the other side of the apartment close and she briefly perked up, wondering where Shaine was going.

They weren’t scheduled to start until tomorrow but that was the thing about Shaine, he did as he pleased and went where his gut told him to.

Which then also made her wonder why he was stepping out on his own.

Did he know something? Was he trying to get the jump on the investigation so he didn’t have to work with her?

Stop panicking, she told herself. Second-guessing every move was a rookie mistake, and if it weren’t Shaine, she wouldn’t think twice about her partner acting as he should undercover.

Forcing herself to relax, Poppy grabbed her file and started reading, committing her identity to heart.

Name: Laci Langford, 22, from Connecticut. Moved to Miami to escape the cold East Coast winters.

Major: Marketing.

Parents: Sara and John Langford, deceased. No siblings.

She perused the rest of the file, closing it as she tried to envision herself as the person described in the file.

Laci Langford...definitely sounded like a stripper name.

She’d have to remember to answer to Laci, not Poppy. Getting tripped up by a simple detail was usually the way rookies got made.

The phantom ache pierced her chest again and she rubbed at the small scar beneath her blouse.

Would she always feel as if she were running from that one event in her life?

She’d made a mistake—screwed up and paid the price.

The upside of getting shot? Poppy worked hard to make sure it wouldn’t happen again.

Unlike her persona, Laci, Poppy’s parents were still alive and well.

And they’d been as unsupportive as Shaine about her decision to remain in her line of work.

“Your father is worried,” her mother had said after her father had stormed from Poppy’s house during her recovery, trying to soften the blow. “You know he doesn’t understand this job of yours.”

“He doesn’t have to understand the job. He just has to understand me.”

“Well, you know that’s always been a challenge,” her mother, Dottie, admitted, her hands fluttering as she straightened everything she could get her fingers on. “Frankly, sweetheart, we’re all a little surprised that after this incident you’re not ready to get into a less dangerous line of work. I mean, Poppy...in all the years I’ve been a nurse, I’ve never been shot at.”

Yes, but Dottie had been shit on, spit on, yelled at and otherwise abused by her patients, and Poppy had never wanted any piece of that.

“I love my job,” Poppy said firmly, holding back the wince as she shifted her weight, trying not to agitate her healing wound. The doctor said it would be weeks before she could even think about returning to work, which sounded like an interminable amount of time to her ears, but she couldn’t exactly go against the doctor’s orders.

Of course, that left her to suffer the opinions of her parents and friends who didn’t understand her job, nor did they appreciate that Poppy absolutely loved what she did.

She tried to tell herself that they meant well, but after gritting her teeth through the same conversation for the umpteenth time, she’d practically worn her teeth down to nubs.

“Of course you do, sweetheart,” Dottie said with open distress. “But some people aren’t cut out for these types of jobs. You’ve always been a delicate thing... Surely the Bureau could find a suitable desk job? Maybe a secretary position?”

Poppy glared. “Do you realize how offensive that is to me? I didn’t work my ass off to sit behind a desk.” When her mother’s eyes started to water, Poppy bit back the rest of the hot words dancing on her tongue. Her parents would never understand—and honestly, she never expected them to—so their opinion wasn’t a huge shock. But the one person she’d thought would understand...

Unwelcome tears crowded her sinuses and she sniffed them back.

Dottie seemed to understand where the tears were coming from and tried to comfort her. “You two can work things out,” she assured Poppy, but Dottie didn’t know that there was absolutely zero chance of that happening. “It was probably very scary to see the woman he loves almost die. You really need to think of how this situation has affected those who love you.”

“Damn it, Mom,” she muttered, pulling away with a curse. “Just stop.”

“What did I say?”

“You always turn it around back on me. As if I should be thinking of everyone else when no one seems to give a damn about how I feel about the situation. Shaine is just as bad as you, demanding that I give up a career I love without considering how doing so would kill me faster than any bullet. If you can’t support me, then stop pretending that you care. I’m done with all of you.”

“Poppy Jones, what has gotten into you? You were never this aggressive, or so rude. This job has changed you and not for the better.” Dottie gathered her purse, her upper lip stiff. “I hope you come to your senses soon. Otherwise, I just don’t think my heart can take it. I didn’t raise my daughter to want a career she’s so ill-suited for.”

Ill-suited? she’d wanted to scream. I was top of my class in Quantico, ranked in the top five in intelligence training and broke the record for fastest time running the eight-mile Hell Run.

But none of that mattered to her parents, which was why Poppy hadn’t bothered.

A sigh escaped her parted lips as she roused herself from that terrible memory. Moving away from DC, leaving behind everything she’d ever known, had been her only choice.

Facing Shaine after their breakup would’ve been a torture she wasn’t up to and having to listen to her parents berate her for her choices would’ve been the straw that broke her.

Since moving to LA, her relationship with her parents remained stilted. She made obligatory phone calls now and then just to check in, but for the most part Poppy had cut ties.

It’d been easier that way.

She liked to think that it was easier for her parents, too.

A kindness.

Now they no longer had to lament the fact that their only daughter had become a “ballbusting man-hater” as her father liked to put it, and her mother didn’t have to hide her head in shame when her nosy, gossipy nurse friends pestered her for why Poppy hadn’t married or had kids by now.

For cripes’ sake, they weren’t living in the ’50s.

But you’d never know it from the way her parents were acting.

The truth was, she could probably forgive her parents for their ignorant thinking, but she could never forgive Shaine for his.

Up until this moment, Poppy had managed to shove Shaine and everything that came with the memory of their time together into the deepest, darkest, most remote part of her brain.

But that all changed the minute he was assigned to her case.

And yes, it was her case.

El Escorpion was a DEA target and the FBI was assisting, as far as Poppy was concerned.

Maybe she did have something to prove, but one thing she knew for certain—Poppy wasn’t going to let anything, or anyone, get in her way of closing this case.

Not even Shaine Kelly.

* * *

Shaine walked into the slick, upscale strip bar Lit, where he and Poppy were supposed to be embedded, and observed the crowd, his body loose but his observation skills sharp.

The blast of cool air was a welcome respite from the sticky Miami heat, but the place was crowded with half-dressed people with banging bodies. The bar should’ve been named Sin because that’s what oozed from the walls.

He grinned suggestively at hot women, allowing his gaze to linger as if he wanted to imagine what it would be like to run his hands up and down those smoking curves, but actually, he was simply taking in the scene, gauging who may or may not be someone he needed to put on his radar.

Shaine’s gaze snagged on the raised platform where the dancers were dominating the floor, and he realized with a grim start that some of the girls were topless. And while he enjoyed the view, he knew that Poppy was going to be up on that stage and he didn’t like that idea at all.

Suck it up.

Poppy wasn’t anything to him. Just another agent undercover.

He shouldn’t care if she was gyrating on a pole as naked as the day she was born, as long as she was doing her job.

He’d have to forget about all the times that lithe body had been pressed against his, her high breasts pushed into his face as they did things that were probably illegal in some states.

Sweat popped along his hairline and he swore under his breath at how easily he was breaking character the moment something involving Poppy entered into his brain.

Nice way to get yourself killed, hotshot.

Get over it. Poppy was old news.

This case could catapult his career and he aimed to make that happen.

Plus, on a personal note, he hated drug dealers.

Scum of the earth getting fat on the misery of others.

Shaine approached the bar, needing a drink for multiple reasons, but the biggest being his need to scope out Angelo Costa.

Angelo, the man in charge of the bar, looked as slick as everything else in the place. Dark hair, darker eyes, and if it weren’t for the hard glint in his eyes, one could almost call him pretty.

Shaine knew right away that if he was going to get into the inner circle, getting tight with Angelo was going to be the key.

Depositing himself casually at the bar, he ordered a beer and then swiveled back around to survey the crowd.

Angelo delivered the beer with a comment. “You new to the area? I haven’t seen you around.”

He was assessing Shaine as much as Shaine was assessing Angelo. It was a game—a game Shaine knew well.

A thrill raced his spine.

This was the exciting part. And it was the most dangerous.

If everything was going to fall to shit, it would fall to shit right then and there.

Shaine grinned as he swept up his beer for a swig. “You could say that. But you’re going to see a lot more of me. I’m your new bartender.” He extended his hand for a quick shake. “The name’s Rocco Pacheco. This place always jumping?”

Angelo shrugged. “What can I say, it’s a smokin’ club. So you’re the new hire. Gotta say we don’t usually hire sight unseen. But you come with a hot résumé. Not many people leave Grind. What gives?”

“Let’s just say the owner and I had a difference in opinion.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. He thought I should stop banging his wife. I disagreed.”

Angelo laughed, shaking his head. “Ohh, you brave. Or stupid. Was she worth it?”

“I don’t do anything that’s not worth my time.”

“All right, yeah, yeah, I feel you. But the question is, do you learn from your mistakes?”

“Are you asking am I going to sleep with the boss’s wife? Then, yeah, I’ve learned my lesson.”

Angelo seemed amused. “Sounds like you’ll fit right in. So before you left Grind, what brought you to Miami?”

“You’re looking at it. I like my women fast, my liquor expensive and a beautiful beach on which to nurse my hangover. Miami seemed the perfect place.”

“Then you did come to the right place. But if you have a taste for expensive liquor, what’s with the cheap beer?”

“I said I liked expensive liquor, I didn’t say I could afford it. At least not yet.”

“I like your style, kid. I think you’ll fit in real well.”

So far so good. But it could all be smoke and mirrors. If Lit was, in fact, the hub where El Escorpion was peddling Bliss, chances were Angelo was involved. And if that was the case, it was imperative that Shaine get in tight with the man.

“So where’s the action?” Shaine asked, appearing hungry and horny. “I’m ready for a good time.”

“I doubt you need my help. Just flash those pearly whites and you’ll be glommed by women looking to put their stamp on you,” Angelo said with an enigmatic smile.

“Yeah sure, but you seem the kind of guy who would know the real scene.”

“Maybe. What did you have in mind?”

“Anyone I should steer clear of? Not looking for a wife, just a good time, if you know what I mean.”

“In that case—” Angelo leaned forward with a conspiratorial glance toward a sexy redhead who’d just taken the stage “—you might want to give Raquel a pass. She’s trouble, if you know what I mean.”

“Yeah?”

“Screw her once and she’ll start picking out rings.”

“Damn, thanks for that.” He pretended to shudder, then added, “That’s a shame. She looks like a hot piece of ass.”

“Oh, she is, for sure,” Angelo remarked as if he knew from experience just how she could set the sheets on fire. “But you play, you pay. Takes weeks to brush that Stage 3 clinger off your junk.”

“Good to know.”

Just then, a sassy brunette, wearing not much more than a thong sliding up her near perfect ass and a matching bikini top that was barely two tiny triangles covering her nipples, sidled up to the bar with a blinding smile for Angelo.

“Hey, baby, I need a drink, I’m parched. That last set was brutal.” Then she slid her gaze over to Shaine, bold and interested. “And who are you?”

Angelo answered for him. “Down, girl. Brandi, this is Rocco Pacheco, our new bartender.”

“So you’re replacing Tommy?” Brandi asked. Shaine just shrugged as if he couldn’t care less who he was replacing. “Hmm, big shoes to fill. Everyone liked Tommy. Well, everyone except Angelo.”

“The guy was a prick,” Angelo said with a small smirk. “And he didn’t seem to know his place.”

“You were just jealous,” Brandi replied, still watching Shaine, her gaze as probing as Angelo’s, except Brandi’s stare lingered just a little too long on the areas that interested her more.

Angelo pushed a blue drink Brandi’s way and she snatched it up, tossing an inviting smile at Shaine before walking away.

“Watch out, she’ll eat your heart for breakfast,” Angelo warned with a chuckle, but his gaze never left Brandi’s swaying ass as she disappeared backstage. “But she’s a wild ride.”

“So what’s the story with that one?” Shaine asked.

Angelo poured a shot of premium vodka and set it in front of Shaine. “The story is, that one is mine.”

Shaine chuckled and downed the vodka shot. “Duly noted. Anyone else you got dibs on?”

“Just that one. The rest are fair game.”

“Thanks for the info.” Shaine pushed away from the bar with his beer in hand. “Until tomorrow night, then.”

“Happy hunting,” Angelo called out as Shaine melted into the crowd.

Chapter 5

Poppy walked backstage at Lit, taking a quick note how every eye was on her, openly judging with barely restrained mistrust and hostility.

For a stripper, a new girl was competition.

Poppy saw an empty dressing table and began to drop her duffel, but a redhead jumped in front of her with a dirty look.

“Keep walking, scrub.”

“Sorry, I didn’t realize it was taken.”

“You don’t know sorry yet but you will.”

Poppy could break this redhead, but could Laci Langford, a small-town Connecticut girl?

Probably not.

Poppy refrained from engaging the hostile redhead and kept walking, finding a dresser in the corner of the brightly lit, slightly alcohol-soaked dressing room and plopped down her bag.

She didn’t have to wait long before someone Poppy assumed was the manager came up, a woman who looked impossibly perfect with a tight, honed body, long dark hair and big, perky breasts that looked too amazing to be real but too soft to be fake.

“You’re the new girl, I’m assuming?”

“And who are you?”

“Your only friend so lose the attitude,” the brunette returned. “Look, it’s real simple. You might’ve been hired by the boss or maybe you’re blowing the owner and you think that you’ve got some kind of safety net, but the fact is we run this bar and if you piss us off, you’re out of here. Get it?”

Poppy knew there was a hierarchy in strip clubs, and judging by this woman’s stance she was looking at the ringleader, or at the very least the one the other dancers respected. So it would behoove her to be nice.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. I could use a friend,” Poppy said, trying to make amends. “My name’s Laci.”

“Brandi,” she replied, sliding her behind on Poppy’s dressing table, eyeing Poppy openly. “So, you have that fresh-off-the-bus look. Guys love that. Some will even try to save you. If you play it right, you could make a mint off those ones.”

Poppy nodded as if she appreciated the advice. “So how does this work? How much does the house take?”

“You pay thirty dollars to the house for the privilege of dancing, and then whatever tips you make the house mom takes 20 percent. The rest is yours.”

“And who is the house mom?”

“That would be Big Jane,” Brandi said, pointing to the older lady, who was maybe forty, talking to a short busty blonde. “She’s a bitch but she keeps the really insistent guys off us because no one messes with Big Jane.”

“Is that a problem here?”

Brandi leveled a cynical look Poppy’s way. “Honey, you dance topless for a bunch of men with too much money and a sense of entitlement. What do you think?”

“So I should maybe be real nice to Big Jane?”

“If you’re smart.”

“Thanks for the tip.”

Finished with the blonde, Big Jane found her way to them and Brandi took that as her cue to leave.

“Brandi tell you how things work around here?”

“Yes,” Poppy answered, taking in every detail about the older woman. Probably a former stripper, but hard living had taken its toll. Little pockets of jiggly flesh softened her middle and her jowls, but otherwise she seemed in decent shape.

Not dancing shape, though.

Big Jane tossed a tiny sequined outfit to Poppy and said, “The sides have Velcro so it’ll come apart easily enough. But make them work for it before you show off your goods. Depending on your performance, we’ll see if you’re good enough to become a Lit regular.”

Unlike Shaine, who had a secure position as a bartender, she had to work to keep hers. Why should this be any different than anything else in her life?

Poppy smiled with feigned confidence. “Don’t give away my spot. I’m coming back.”

“We’ll see.”

Big Jane walked off, leaving Poppy to figure out how she was going to wow a crowd that was accustomed to seasoned exotic dancers when her talent had been in classical training.

Somehow she doubted the patrons were interested in seeing her arabesque.

Poppy managed to shimmy into the tiny dress, the sharp sequins scraping her skin as she pulled it up over her hips and over her breasts. It clung like a second skin but the Velcro held.

A bubbly blonde bounced over to her, bright smiles and brilliant blue eyes, looking all of sixteen, which immediately made Poppy want to run a background check to ensure a fake ID wasn’t in play, but she squelched the concern.

“You’re so pretty,” the girl gushed with unabashed honesty. “I mean, your skin is like perfect. What’s your secret?”

“Good genes I guess,” she answered. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Capri. Nice to meet you,” she chirped with a sweet smile. “And you are?”

“Laci.”

“I love that name. I knew a Laci when I was in high school and she was the prettiest girl in school. I wonder if all girls named Laci are just naturally destined to be gorgeous.”

“Oh, God, shut up already,” the redhead muttered, rolling her eyes as she stalked past them. “Your set is next and if you get in my way, I’ll shove you off the stage.”

Capri scowled but otherwise didn’t retaliate, waiting until the redhead had left to talk again. “Ugh, that’s Raquel. She’s a bitch. Try to ignore her, though. She’s mean to everyone. Well, everyone except Big Jane, ’cause Big Jane would knock her head off.”

Capri was silly and seemed completely oblivious to anything beyond the sparkle on her sequins, which made her a safe harbor for Poppy. Maybe the witless Capri could unwittingly give her information.

“You’re so sweet,” Poppy said, smiling. “Thank you. New city, new job, I’m a little out of my element. I came to Miami for school but you know how that goes... Money is tight so I heard dancing at the right club could solve my tuition problem.”

“You can make a ton of money if you know what you’re doing,” Capri answered, adding with a giggle, “But I’d never spend all that hard-earned cash on school when there are so many other things you can spend it on like nice clothes, sparkly things and fast cars, you know?”

“Tempting,” Poppy said, smiling. “But for now, I’d just like to graduate college without a ton of debt.”

Capri shrugged, bored. “To each his own.”

Poppy realized talking about aspirations wasn’t going to draw the girl to her, so she switched tracks.

“This place is amazing. So cutting-edge. I can’t believe I got in.”

Capri’s eyes lit up, happy to talk about something she cared about.

“Lit is one of the best clubs I’ve ever worked for.”

“Yeah? How many clubs have you worked for?” Poppy couldn’t help her curiosity. “I mean, you look so young.”

“Age is just a number, right?” Capri giggled. “I mean, it’s experience that matters.”

Poppy withheld the cringe. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Anyway, yeah, Lit is the best. I worked my butt off to get into Lit. You don’t even want to know what I had to do to earn a spot.”

Poppy ignored the little voice in her head that told her to dig deeper into Capri’s backstory. She couldn’t stand the thought of a young girl selling herself because she didn’t know any better, but she wasn’t here to save anyone. Not even exploited teens who didn’t have the sense God gave a goose to know they were headed down a dark path.

“I’m so nervous,” Poppy admitted. That part wasn’t acting. Her hands were shaking. “I wish I had a drink before hitting the stage.”

“If you’re real nice to Angelo, he’ll take care of you,” Capri said. “He’s a sweetie. And so cute. But watch out because Brandi is a jealous bitch if she thinks you’re moving in on her man. Geesh, you’d think she owns the guy or something.”

“So Brandi and Angelo have a thing?”

“Yeah, I guess so. But can you keep a secret?” Capri leaned forward with an excited gleam in her eye. When Poppy nodded, Capri shared, “Angelo likes me, too. He says he’s going to take care of me, introduce me to the right people.”

“And how exactly would he do that?”

“By introducing me to a sugar daddy, of course, silly,” Capri said with a giggle. “The amount of money that comes through these doors is obscene. You’ll see. Maybe if you’re lucky, you’ll catch your own sugar daddy.”

Good lord, she hoped not.

“I mean, I have my regular and he’s pretty nice,” Capri continued, playing with a sequin on her tight body suit. “But a girl needs to spread her wings, see what else is out there, you know?”

“Is he your boyfriend?” Poppy asked.

“God no. He’s not the boyfriend type,” Capri answered with a laugh as if the idea were absurd. “Actually, he’s...let’s just say, he likes what he likes and he doesn’t mind paying for it. But he’s superrich. I’m talking loaded and he’s very generous when he’s pleased.”

The girl had just admitted to prostituting herself. Poppy tried not to fixate on that point. Busting people for underage prostitution was not their focus.

“Are you sure that’s safe?” Poppy couldn’t help but ask.

“You sound like an old lady,” Capri said, giggling. “Besides, he doesn’t ask for too kinky of stuff. It’s like a date but instead of dinner and a movie...you get a fat wad of cash. Can’t beat that, right?”

Poppy nodded as if she agreed, but inside she was horrified. Capri was too young for this.

“Hey, maybe after we get to know each other, I can introduce you. My friend is always looking for new playmates.”

“Thanks,” Poppy said, forcing a bright smile for Capri’s benefit, but inside she was stunned at how cavalier Capri was about selling her body.

This was a foreign world and Poppy was feeling the cultural differences.

“No problem,” Capri said with a sweet smile as if she’d just offered to swap banana bread recipes instead of sharing sexual contacts. “There’s something about you that I like. I hope you stick around. Good luck with your set.”

Poppy murmured her thanks and watched as Capri returned to her vanity to touch up her makeup.

Heaven help her. When this was all finished, Poppy was going to find a way to help Capri see that there was a different life out there waiting for her to grab on to it.

Of course, Poppy knew that people who didn’t want help didn’t appreciate the effort others took on their behalf, but Poppy didn’t care. Capri needed something better than what she was doing.

Whether she knew it or not.

Poppy swallowed as Big Jane hollered for Capri, who then hurried off to start her set, leaving Poppy to try to figure out how she was going to hold on to her position when she didn’t have a clue as to what she was doing.

You’re in over your head, Shaine’s voice intruded in her thoughts, and her gaze narrowed.

Like hell she was.

Moving backstage, she watched Raquel as she finished her set and then Capri danced onto the platform. The girl could move and she could work a crowd.

Pushing aside the concern that Capri might be younger than she let on, Poppy took mental notes, memorizing every move and grind that seemed to garner more attention from the patrons so that by the time it was her turn, she’d have an idea of what to do.

And now taking the stage, a sweet treat, a country girl from Connecticut, Lovely Laci!

Poppy emerged from the curtain, her eyes blinded by the neon lights until they adjusted, and then, of all people, the first person to make eye contact was Shaine.

For a moment she froze, her lungs squeezing with panic, but her desire to win this case was bigger than her fear.

Stop being a pussy. Get the job done.

Any way possible.

Deliberately holding Shaine’s gaze, she slowly gyrated onto the pole, remembering a time when being sexy for Shaine Kelly had been natural.

The rest of the crowd disappeared and it was just Shaine and her.

And when she ripped her tiny dress off, she could’ve sworn Shaine stopped breathing.

Just like that...Poppy was back on track.

* * *

“Hot damn,” Angelo murmured as he rested his elbows on the bar during Poppy’s set. “The new girl is a smoke bomb.”

Shaine forced a casual grin but shrugged. “Not bad. I’ve seen better.”

The words actually felt stuck in his mouth, but Angelo didn’t seem to notice as he was too busy staring at Poppy.

Close your damn mouth, you prick.

Horny patrons were throwing their paychecks at Poppy and she was eating it up, dancing as if she’d been born to it.

A tiny blonde with giant breasts popped up to the bar, practically purring at Angelo. “Can I get something to drink?”

“Sure, babe. What do you want?” Angelo asked, distracted, still watching Poppy.

The girl tracked Angelo’s gaze and then giggled. “That’s Laci. Isn’t she pretty? I think she’s really nice, too.”

Shaine nudged Angelo as if fishing for an introduction, but actually he needed to know all the players coming and going through Lit, and at this point all the dancers were suspect. “Who’s your cute friend?”

“Oh, sorry man, this is my girl, Capri. Capri, meet the new bartender, Rocco.”

Capri exaggerated the hard C with a suggestive look. “Rocco? That’s a hot name.” Then she giggled again before returning to Angelo with a soft pout. “Brandi is being a royal bitch again. Can you please tell her to be nice?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Angelo said, his gaze dipping to Capri’s breasts as he grinned. “I liked your set. Good job, sweetheart.”

“Thank you, baby.”

Angelo looked to Shaine. “Hey, can you hold down the bar for a minute? I’ve got some business to take care of.”

Shaine nodded and watched as Angelo draped his arm around Capri and led her off to the back office.

I wonder if Brandi knows that her guy is shagging Capri, too?

He made a mental note to poke around and ask some questions, maybe even play some head games to see what got put into motion.

Sometimes stirring the pot uncovered interesting ingredients.

Poppy’s set ended and Shaine refused to let his stare gravitate toward her. But damn it, his eyes didn’t seem to want to obey. Against his better judgment, he caught an eyeful of Poppy’s strong body and succulent breasts, immediately hating that men were practically drooling on the stage, calling out her name and catcalling.

Poppy scooped up the cash being thrown at her and then walked with sass off the stage.

The redhead, Raquel, approached the bar. “Whiskey sour,” she said, watching him with interest as Shaine made her drink. “What’s your name?”

“Rocco.”

“Nice to meet you Rocco... I’m Raquel.”

“Pleasure.”

“We’ll see.”

He arched his brow with feigned interest. “Oh?”

She smiled, revealing slightly crooked teeth. “Only if you’re lucky.”

Shaine chuckled. “If I were a smart man I’d stop right now, but I’ve never been accused of being overly smart.”

“Dumb and cute...just the way I like them.”

Shaine pushed her whiskey sour toward her, then leaned forward, using every bit of his charm to get what he wanted.

“So, you seem like a woman who knows what’s going on... Tell me, who really runs this joint? Do the owners ever pop in?”

“Stick around and you’ll find out,” Raquel said, grabbing her drink and sauntering off, leaving him with an unobstructed view of her generous ass and the tramp stamp etched along her lower back of a scorpion.

Chapter 6

Poppy’s legs ached from the workout on the dance platform, but the fat wad of cash in her purse felt pretty good, even if she was required to log the cash into evidence.

She was loath to admit it, but knowing Shaine had been watching her dance had given her that boost of adrenaline that’d put her back into character.

Thank God her realization was between her and the Almighty.

Shaine was already insufferable; knowing she’d needed him would make him unbearable.

She kicked off her shoes and clicked on the light, going to check her perimeter cameras. The sound of Shaine entering his own apartment made her painfully aware of how close they were, but still so apart.

A few moments later, the adjoining door opened and she had to bite back sharp words, reminding herself that they were on a case together.

“I have some intel that might be useful,” Shaine said without preamble. “That young girl, Capri, is either sleeping with Angelo or she’s moving product for him. And Raquel has a scorpion tattoo on her lower back, which doesn’t seem like a coincidence.”

“She’s probably sleeping with him,” Poppy said, worrying her bottom lip. She hated the idea, still troubled by how young Capri seemed. “But I’ll check it out. What do you think about Angelo?”

“I think he’s smart. He’s not going to slip up easily.”

“So you think he’s involved with our target?”

“My gut says so.”

“Too bad we can’t use your gut to get a search warrant.”

“What did you learn backstage?”

Shaine was all business. His gaze didn’t flicker or falter at the topic of her stripping, but her cheeks felt unaccountably warm as she began to share her intel.

“Big Jane runs the girls backstage. She seems to keep the girls safe from overeager patrons, and she takes a cut of their earnings,” Poppy said. “Raquel is an angry person with a chip on her shoulder. I don’t know if there’s drama between Raquel and the rest of the girls or if she’s just like that naturally, but she’s not very friendly. So I doubt it’s going to be easy to get any information out of her. Capri is sweet and doesn’t seem to realize when she should keep her mouth shut.”

“You ought to friend her. She’s your ticket in.”

“I know that,” Poppy retorted, irritated that Shaine was telling her how to run her end of the investigation. “I’m already working on that angle.”

“Good.”

“What about you? How are you doing getting tight with Angelo?”

“It’s a work in progress. He’s not just going to let me in after a few ‘bro’ moments. I have to earn his trust.”

“And how do you plan to do that?”

“I’ll play it by ear.”

“Don’t you think it’s a good idea to share your game plan with the people who are involved?”

“You stick to your plan, I’ll stick to mine. We’re not supposed to know each other so it doesn’t make sense to share every detail with you. If by some chance someone starts to get suspicious, plausible deniability is your friend.”

He was schooling her and she hated it. “Of course, I realize that. I’m just saying, I didn’t want to inadvertently step on your plan while making my own.”

“Don’t worry about me.”

“I’m not,” she replied coolly. “My concern is for the investigation. You’re not the only one thinking of their résumé with this case.”

“Of that I have no doubt,” he said wryly. “Ambition is your middle name.”

Poppy paused, wondering where that came from. “Which means?”

“You’re so damn sensitive,” Shaine said, shaking his head as if he realized nothing that came out of his mouth wouldn’t set her off. “It doesn’t mean anything. It was never a secret that you wanted to climb the ladder—and judging by how quickly you managed to put yourself on a major undercover case, I’d say you’re well on your way.”

It was true. She’d been tireless in her pursuit up the chain. She’d taken every case she could get her hands on, just to prove that she had what it took to close cases.

Her superior had remarked often that if the DEA had ten more agents like Poppy, they could take down every major drug dealer exporting illegal substances out of the country.

“Thanks,” Poppy allowed, loosening up just a little. She supposed she could drop the chip on her shoulder for now. But that chip kept her focused, kept her mindful of the past and mistakes she didn’t want to repeat.

So hold on to that chip for now, you’ll need it to work beside Shaine.

“Look,” Shaine started, as if needing to get something off his chest. “I know I didn’t take it so well that you were on this case, but we have to put our differences aside to focus on the job.”

“I don’t have a problem with that. I have no interest in dredging up the past.”

“Good. I won’t lie to you and say that I didn’t have reservations, but I trust that you know what you’re doing and that you’ve learned a lot since your first case.”

Poppy stiffened, hating that he’d brought up the case with Lachlan. But she supposed she couldn’t expect him not to reference it when she’d nearly died because of a rookie mistake. “I always make it a point to learn from my mistakes,” she said pointedly, leaving it at that. “But I appreciate your professionalism.”

Shaine jerked a short nod. “Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way... I’m done for the night.”

Poppy watched as Shaine let himself out, locking the door behind him on the other side, and she exhaled a shaky breath.

Would she always feel so uncentered around Shaine? Although leaving the FBI had been an act of self-preservation, it’d also allowed her to spread her wings without fearing the opinions of those who’d known her.

Such as her family.

And Shaine.

Their judgment weighed on her like a sack of boulders and it’d been a relief to walk away.

But her love for Shaine had been fierce—nearly as fierce as her drive.

Leaving him had been like ripping an arm off and tossing it into the grinder.

It wasn’t just Shaine; it’d been losing his whole family that’d stung, as well. Shaine and his brothers, Sawyer and Silas, had become closer than her actual family. Unlike her own, Shaine’s family had supported her career goals.

The phantom pain of her bullet wound always reminded her of what she’d given up for her ambitions.

Working with Shaine was going to be the biggest challenge of her life.

Not because he wasn’t professional or a good agent...but because seeing him again ignited that tiny spark that refused to die no matter how much she smothered it under layers of denial and hurt.

And she couldn’t chance that spark turning into something bigger.

Not again.

She’d rather take another bullet—it’d hurt a lot less.

* * *

Sprawled naked on the pristine sheets, Angelo lit a cigarette and drew on it with a lazy, sated inhale as Raquel pulled her clothes back on, her agitation raining on his good mood.

“What’s your problem, baby-girl?” he asked, more curious than concerned. “You’re ruining an otherwise good night with your ’tude.”

Raquel, a hot number with a sizzling body, turned to glare at him with open accusation. “Did you hire her?” she demanded, momentarily confusing Angelo. “The new girl. Did you hire her?”

“No,” he answered, enjoying the flash of jealousy in her eyes. “But even if I did, what of it? She’s hot and she dances well enough.”

“I don’t like her.”

He chuckled. “Big surprise. You don’t like anyone.”

Raquel pulled her long red hair up into a messy ponytail with a sound of disgust as she walked into the adjoining bathroom. “There’s something about her that rubs me the wrong way.”

“You’re paranoid.” He stubbed out his cigarette and rose from the bed, admiring Raquel’s body as he joined her in the bathroom, walking past her to piss. “And stop being such a bitch to Brandi. You make more problems when you mess with her and then I have to clean it up.”

“Screw Brandi,” Raquel shouted back, leaving the bathroom. “You said you were leaving her and yet, here you are, still meeting with me in secret. What gives? I’m tired of that bitch thinking she’s got you wrapped around her finger.”

“Baby, patience. I told you, there’s a lot going on that you aren’t aware of,” he said, dropping back onto the bed. Did they have time for a quick bounce? Maybe he’d make time. Raquel was a wildcat in bed, but he’d have a helluva time explaining the scratches to Brandi.

Raquel returned to the bed, sullen and still unhappy. “I don’t understand why you keep playing her like that. If you want to be with me, you ought to just man up and tell that bitch to get off your dick.”

“What if I like the idea of two hot women fighting over me?” Angelo asked with a smart-ass smirk that was entirely genuine.

Raquel straddled him, nestling herself right up against his junk, but she twisted his nipple so hard he yelped. “I don’t play well with others,” she said sweetly as she released his nipple and kissed him hard before issuing an ultimatum. “Lose the bitch, or you lose me.”

Angelo didn’t like ultimatums. “Careful, baby-doll. Don’t forget who you’re dealing with.”

“And the same goes to you,” Raquel said, moving off him to grab her purse. “You’re not the only one with options.”

And then she left, closing the door with a hard slam that made Angelo want to jump up and jerk her back by her long hair to teach her some manners.

But that would have to wait. He had better plans.

He checked his watch and quickly cleaned up. Brandi was due to show up any minute.

The sound of a car pulling into the drive made him peer out the curtained window.

Brandi’s silver Mercedes.

Damn, he liked to live dangerously. Chances were Brandi and Raquel had passed each other in the dark without even knowing it. He chuckled and returned to his bed, waiting for Brandi to bound up the stairs to his bedroom.

“Hey, baby,” she said, kissing him as she began to strip. “Are you ready for me?”

“Always.”

After sharing a deep kiss, he stopped to ask, “Baby, did you get that package for me?”

“Yes,” she answered dutifully, rolling away to grab her purse. She withdrew a large manila package and handed it to him.

“Good girl,” he said, pleased. He’d get a fat bonus for delivering without incident. He reached over and grabbed Brandi by the back of the neck to kiss her roughly. Brandi liked to be dominated, and he didn’t mind muscling her around. He tossed the package onto his dresser, then barked an order, “Now get your ass naked and get over here, woman.”

Brandi laughed and did as she was told, stripping slowly, teasing him in the way he liked.

Whereas Raquel was all fire and brimstone, Brandi was classier, more refined.

He liked the differences in the two women.

And, in spite of what he told Raquel, he had no plans to turn either of them loose.

Playing both sides against the middle assured him a never-ending supply of quality ass in his bed.

At least for now.

But after a quick romp, something Raquel said came back to him and he thought to question Brandi.

“What do you think of the new girl?”

Brandi shrugged. “She’s all right. Nothing special as far as I can tell. Just your basic small-town country girl who thought it would be cool to go to the big city.”

“You think that’s all there is to her?”

“Yeah? Why?”

He shrugged. “No reason. Just trying to get a feel for her.”

“And why is that?”

He chucked her chin gently. “Hey, you know it’s my job to make sure that everyone is playing nicely,” he said, brushing a brief kiss across her lips. “So don’t be getting something in your head that it’s anything more than professional interest.”

Brandi nodded but she said, “Are you sure? You wouldn’t be messing around on me, right?”

“Of course not, baby. You’re my number one girl.” The lie tripped easily from his tongue, but there was a certain amount of truth to it, too. Brandi was the kind of girl he could potentially see a future with, whereas Raquel was just an exciting diversion.

Satisfied, Brandi settled against his chest. “She seems like a cool person. I mean, she has this slight edge to her, like she’s holding back something, but when she went out on stage, she really went all out. I was kind of impressed.”

“A natural,” he mused. “How did the other girls take to her?”

“The usual. Raquel was a bitch and Capri was a chattering twit, fawning all over her with that little bubblegum voice of hers, and Big Jane was no-nonsense. I didn’t pay attention to anyone else.” Brandi looked him in the eye. “And what about you? How’s the new guy? He any good?”

“Yeah, he’s decent. He said he worked for Grind. That’s pretty impressive cred.”

“I know someone who goes to Grind all the time. Want me to ask around if they know about him?”

“Yeah, baby, that’s real smart.”

Brandi snuggled in tighter and yawned, but before she could fall asleep, Angelo nudged her. “Time to go home, baby-girl. You know I can’t sleep with anyone else in the bed.”

Brandi groaned and sleepily rose to a sitting position with a pout. “But I’m so tired,” she complained, rubbing her eyes. “Why can’t I just stay?”

“Because I want our time together to be special and something I look forward to. If we start living together...that’s a death sentence, baby.”

She knew this wasn’t an argument she would win and she knew better than to push it. He slapped her ass as she climbed from the bed and grudgingly dressed.

“That’s my girl. Make sure you lock up when you leave.”

“Sure,” she mumbled and made her way downstairs.

He listened as she exited the house and then drove away.

Grabbing his cell, he sent a quick text.

Product in hand. Party set.

Extremely satisfied with how the day had ended, he fell asleep within minutes.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.