18

The surveillance on the trailer lot is finally up and running, and I swipe my finger over the screen of my phone at the different angles and points of view around the property. The job required a couple of men because I wanted a view of the roads before the entrance, the perimeter, the trailers, as well as Noah's side of the lot. I didn't want anymore fucking surprises.

Then I check on Niki. She's accompanied by her adoptive sister and Sara, Jasmin's girlfriend, and they're safe, shopping in the city. I assigned a bodyguard to my little fox and made sure he understood that a safe distance was key. She'd soon catch on that she was being followed, my clever girl.

"Alright, the device that pinged inside Justice's trailer was a cell phone that she purchased for her brother. It's got a block on it, so we don't have access to its contents, but we can track it. I dropped a pin on his location and sent it to you."

Jason can't see me nod. "High school."

Jason lets out a breath that turns into one long whistle. "Your girl knows someone. This block isn't one that just anyone can install."

"You think you can figure out who coded it?"

I can't see him, but I know he's smiling. "Already on it."

I guess I'm lucky Jason thrives on a good challenge. "I have to go. Let me know when you figure something out."

"Busy again tonight?" There's still typing in the background, and I catch an amused tone to his voice.

I place the phone on top of my dresser and strip the t-shirt off my back, then toss it into a black clothes hamper in the corner of my bedroom.

"The mayor is a guest at Nym-Pho tonight. No way am I not going."

"Come on, D. We both know who your eyes will be on the entire night. And it won't be Carlton."

"That's why Olivia will be there."

His typing stops and now it's me who's smiling.

Jason's words struggle through a tense jaw and tight lips. "My Olivia at Nym-Pho? Doing what exactly?"

"What do you think?"

The noise in the background tells me he's moved away from his computer and he's rummaging through stuff. "Absolutely fucking not, Dylan. No. She'll stay and work on uncovering the block and I'll go to Nym-Pho."

My lips tighten so as not to leak my laughter out loud. "And what sort of help can you offer? Olivia can at least gather intel by offering a private dance and—"

"I said no. I'll see you there."

Jason hangs up, and I burst into laughter. I wouldn't ask Olivia to go in as an undercover at Nym-Pho. She's one of the best cyber scientists I know. If anyone can find out who placed that block for Niki, it would be Olivia, with her hands tied behind her back. And I needed another set of eyes in the club tonight. Jason was my first choice, but seeing that he enjoys giving me shit about my developing obsession, I thought I'd pay the favor back.

Jason and Olivia have been together since they met in college; they're inseparable. And he is as tormented as me, if not more. The reciprocated infatuation makes their relationship sizzle, ignited by a twin flame and captivated by their appeal to one another. Neither of them fight it. Not for a long time, at least. I remember a time when Olivia would scurry away from Jason. Not anymore.

My situation differs, in that Niki is a force of nature all on her own. I don't want to capture or contain her. Soon she will understand that, and then she will accept us.

Not before.

Since my fox released explicit information on one of the most beloved political leaders around and would no doubt continue to chase her lead, I won't allow the risk of that son of a bitch touching or grazing a single hair of hers. Knowing she will throw herself at another opportunity to catch him in activities that will further tarnish his reputation? Fuck.

I can't promise her safety if she keeps throwing herself into the pit of hell. Stopping her will only inhibit an integral part of who she is. It'd be crushing her. But if I allow her to do what she does best, and keep her safe—the best of two worlds, if you ask me.

"Damn, Prada over here clocking in to work the night shift?"

The detectives' laughter makes its way to my ears and the hairs on my arm stand at attention.

I stifle a growl and lift up a black binder. "Just dropping these off." I toss it on the Lieutenant"s desk. "Noah had nothing to do with the burnt down warehouse. It was an electrical fire, and the forensic analyses notations state that there was a shootout among the men pronounced dead at the scene."

"You sure? What about the witness that states they saw Noah leaving the scene?"

"From where, thirty miles away with super binoculars?" I shake my head. "Look over the file yourself. I went over it with a lice comb and checked each piece of evidence myself."

The idiot who referred to me as Prada, which, by the way, is not what I'm wearing, snatches the binder up and roams through the pages. I made sure to include fresh photos and thorough records. "Noah is a petty crime incubator. He couldn't possibly have orchestrated an electrical fire, disarmed men, beat their asses, and shot them. All five? No. He isn't capable."

"Huh," another chimes in. "Well, where was he during all of this?"

I cross my arms and lean on the desk opposite of the small group hovering over my notes. "Page thirty-two. Photos of Noah licking his wounds outside of his neighbor's house."

"How the fuck did you manage all of this?"

I check my fingernails and open my palm. The ink on my wrist has faded, and I realize I'll need to retouch my hand tattoos soon. I turn my hand over to examine the spiral better. "Don't worry, I'll make sure to hold a workshop that will instruct on proper methods and techniques when conducting an investigation. Use a recording app so you don't miss anything."

The fucker stands tall and actually begins to approach me. He's all blotchy in the face and I stifle a laugh.

"What about his little girlfriend?"

I stand and get ready to punch him in the face when Lieutenant Bauer reacts and rushes to put a hand on his chest.

I shake the feeling of wanting to smash his face in. "The file on Mayor Carlton's daughters is with the Captain. He asked for it to be directly handed to him."

Every detective freezes, and Bauer takes a guarded step toward me. "You found them?"

I shrug. "You'll have to ask the Captain."

A few of the cops nearby snort or make frustrated grunts, the nosy detectives crowding my space make similar reactions. But Bauer just stares at me and smiles. "Have a good night, Detective Montreal."

I nod and make my way out of there. I'm eager to catch up with Jason before either of us enters the club tonight. He's bound to stand out, the fucker always does. Aside from his fancy wheelchair, he's always the fucking life of a party. People are drawn to him like moths to a light. If anything, his chair further highlights his lively and amusing personality. He always has one good story after another.

He's the yang to my yin.

I park my car in its usual spot and head over to his massive truck and he unlocks the door. He's looking over the file I emailed him.

"Keep your attention on those elite guests. Don't be fooled by Dominica, she's a fucking wolf decadently dressed in fleece."

Jason nods and then peers at me from under his lashes. His gray eyes wary.

He sighs and I instantly know there's a problem. "What?"

"Liv knows who installed the block."

"Well, then? Who is it?"

He shakes his head. "She won't say."

"Why the fuck not?" I growl and the truck moves with my outburst.

Jason raises his hands. "Best she can do is keep tabs on the phone's location. She won't touch the code guarding it."

I breathe out through my teeth. "Will she at least tell me why?"

"Yea, she says to come over for lunch tomorrow and she'll tell you all about it."

Seriously? If Olivia knows who created the block and decided to protect them, that means she knows who they are. Fuck. "I'll be there."

"Great! We're making la bandera. It's white rice, beans—"

"I know what it is," I snap.

"Right." He nods and then opens his laptop. "There's something you should take a look at before heading in."

Great, what the fuck else can happen?

He clicks a few keys, and an image pops up. It"s Niki"s ranch. He zooms in and the image grows hazy. It's of three women riding horses through a pasture. Jason clicks a few more times, and the picture clears up.

"Thought you should know that your Justice is harboring two very prestigious and sought out fugitives."

Why the fuck is my little fox hiding the two women? It has to be more than Niki just trying to get back at the mayor by keeping him away from what he currently wants most. For some reason, which I know is definitely not a good one, his daughters ran off and want nothing to do with him. For weeks they were rumored to have lived in the streets posing as street workers. Why would they want that life instead of their supposed prime upbringing?

What does Niki know?

Carlton is a conniving political mastermind with hidden agendas. I know he's involved with Vork and his crew. Jason and I were able to look over the surveillance of one of his warehouses before it was deleted. Carlton made a rare appearance and personally handed a case to Vork before they shook hands. We're so close.

The scum chose an enclosed section on the second level, and Jason somehow already infiltrated his way into their numbers. He rolls away after almost an hour of being in their company and heads toward a table on the opposite side of the second floor that lowers into the first. Dominica is there, along with two others from the file I shared with him.

It's funny how all these idiots think a simple mask over a part of their face will suffice in keeping their identities secret.

I keep my eyes away from their area and watch cautiously through my peripheral. The music tonight is dark, violent, but still emotional and captivating. The red and white strobe lights move slowly over the furniture and it gives the appearance that we're all barely here. Ghosts in the otherwise black existence.

The lights break suddenly, a stark semblance of tar dripping over the walls, and the white chandelier in the center illuminates the club in soft red lights.

Niki steps out of the cage she was dancing in and hops onto the bar. She's ignoring my presence, but I know she's finally made the connection that it's me.

Her skin is covered in a sheen of sweat, making her appear wet and sultry. The desire to run my tongue over her skin and taste her, to push her tossled hair back and stare into her expressive walnut-colored eyes is holding me fucking hostage. I can't look away from her; the need to wrap her with my body is fiercer than ever. I grip the armrest of my chair to stop myself from walking over to her.

I want her to tell me everything I've failed to gather and understand about her. I need her lies to be mine. I want to unveil the secrets she keeps from everyone else and be the safe she needs to hold them.

After knocking back a shot of what I'm sure is tequila, she saunters to the backroom.

Jasmin is busy patrolling each floor, giving orders to every single bartender, and she stops in front of three security guards next and points to two sections, one being Carlton's. Her face is tight, and a guarded frustration ripples through her tall frame.

I request a drink refill from the server nearest me and when she returns, she hands me a bottle of Jameson, a rare vintage liquor worth over five-hundred fucking dollars.

"From our guest dressed in red," she explains.

I let her pour me a drink from the bottle and she places it on the glass table next to me. I look up and spot Dominica. She's the only guest wearing a red dress, it matches her copper colored hair. She blows me a kiss and I elevate my glass, thanking her.

She smiles, her cherry red painted lips growing wide, and begins to make her way toward me slowly. The lights make it seem as if she's moving in slow motion while everything else behind her whizzes past.

"Hello, handsome." She extends an empty glass to me and I reach down for the bottle she delivered and fill her cup two fingers high. "Do you have a name?"

"The great thing about places such as these is complete anonymity." I smile casually and hand her the bottle.

"It's yours, a gift."

"Normally, when someone makes a gesture as grand as this one, it's for a reason." I lower the bottle onto the table and we both take a sip from our glasses. The redhead reaches for my forearm and squeezes gently, then she smooths her hand up and toward my face.

I stay still, removing a mask, whether your own or someone else's, would breach the contract that Nym-Pho is built upon. Movement far behind her pulls my undivided attention to a shadow lurking, piercing me with a forbidding glare. Niki's mahogany eyes grow large, a threatening glow from across the room, while her entire body tenses.

She's changed from her two-piece leather ensemble that, for the first time, covered more than most outfits she's worn, and now has a black lace corset, a ruffle skirt that just barely covers her pussy, complete with garter and black stockings. She stands tall in stiletto heels, a goddess statue killing me with her eyes alone.

She knows it's me. Her eyes move slowly, tracing everywhere the redhead touches me.

"I do wish I could see your face." Dominica clicks her tongue and then places her hand on my chest and bites her lower lip before retrieving her hand and dipping her fingers into her left breast. "Perhaps we can make it official and go some place a bit more private."

She pulls out a blue metal card with a red heart shaped into a QR code and then hands it to me. Niki's body trembles and her jaw goes rigid, but she flips her hair and moves slowly toward Carlton's table.

"Perhaps," I offer, and I put the card away in the inside pocket of my jacket.

The redhead smiles and takes a few backward steps before walking back to her table on the second floor. But I'm glued to Niki's moves, seductive and languid. She approaches a metal pole directly in front of Carlton's table and joins the naked woman already dancing against it. She's incredible, and the men all watch her instead of the nude flesh before them.

She doesn't even realize how fucking sexy she is. I sit down so I don't look like a fucking idiot and keep my eyes on her, but she pretends I'm not here. On the same floor some tables away, I can feel Jason studying me, but I ignore him. He can handle himself.

It isn't until he's rolling his way toward Niki and positions himself among Carlton and his men that I sense something is off. He's chatting them up and then orders a bottle. Carlton's eyes stay on my little fox and he licks his lips.

I grip the glass in my hand, and it makes a noise in my grip, reminding me of its fragility.

The bastard moves as if he's going to stand when the fucker next to him, a lean built, tall motherfucker with gray hair, beats him to it. He walks away from the conversion and approaches Niki. He hands her a metal card, and she smiles seductively at him, then calls a big security guard standing nearby.

It's a red card—she's accepted a private dance. Son of a bitch.

I struggle but force my glare to Jason, who's staring at me. His masked face gives nothing away, but his eyes give me a warning. What does Jason know that I don't?