Chapter 16

16

Special Agent Fallon Baxter

W e make our way to the bar and take a seat on the far end, here at the Velvet Lounge Gentlemen's Club in downtown Denver.

The bartender comes by and we order a couple of gin and tonics.

"Stone?" I say as the bartender slides them over and Jack antes up along with a generous tip.

"I'm not touching it," he says.

I'm not one to micromanage my partner's drinking habits, but if he's on a sobriety streak I'll make sure to point it out to him.

Jack waves at the man in the pinstripe suit and he makes his way over.

It's interesting to see him in 3D after studying him on that security footage for so long. A part of me feels as if I'm seeing a celebrity, or in this case a cartoon character come to life.

He's tall, wide as a door, and built for destruction. He looks somewhere in his late forties, with heavily tanned skin, a large thick dark mustache taking up half his face, and a mean look in his eyes that lets you know he's not afraid to break a neck in a dark alley—or a house of worship.

"How may I help you?" Marco sheds a forced grin and either a silver or gold tooth glints in the light. It's too dim in here to tell. But my money is on gold.

"I'm going to cut to the chase," Jack says, pulling out his phone and flashing a picture of Erin and Marco huddled in the parking lot of that grocery store during their cash exchange. "Where can we find her?"

The smile melts off the man's face as he takes us both in.

"What's it to you?"

I pull out my badge and covertly flash it at him so as to not cause a scene. With a mob like this, we could have a stampede for the door and I'd hate for any boob in this place to get injured, both literally and figuratively.

"Even better." Marco leans in and there's a newfound defiance in his eyes. "I know exactly where you can find her."

"Where?" I practically spit in his face as I get the word out as fast as I can.

A dark laugh rumbles through him, but he never takes his eyes off mine. "I'll tell you. But not unless you offer up your services. I work for the Morettis. I'm sure you're aware of who they are."

Both Jack and I offer up a sober nod.

"Good," he says. "Manny Moretti is running the Denver syndicate. But your men—and women already know that. Let's just say we've been in touch." His shoulders jump.

"Where is my sister?" I growl and the man's face brightens a notch.

"Sister?" He cocks his head, looking genuinely amused, and I quickly realize I've made a grave mistake. "Well now, I didn't realize this was personal. That changes things, doesn't it? What are you willing to give?"

I hold up that wad of ones and Marco shakes his head at the offer.

Didn't think so.

"Save it for the girls," he says. "I know where Erin is."

My adrenaline spikes instantly.

We never said her name.

He knows exactly who she is. And I have a feeling he's not bluffing. He could lead me to my sister tonight.

"What do you want?" I'll give him anything. And right about now, I think he knows it all too well.

"The Morettis have a need," he says, his expression growing sober. "They need a dirty cop." He shrugs. "A dirty fed is even better. If I deliver you on a silver platter, I get a bonus. In other words, you're my winning ticket out of this place."

"What's wrong with this place?" Jack asks as a pair of boobs bounce by, and I shoot him a dirty look for going there. "What? It's practically paradise compared to any other jobs the Morettis could have him doing."

"He's right." Marco shrugs again, and at this point, I'm likening it to a tick. "But that, too, is a payday I can't refuse. So what do you say? You want Erin? I want you." He nods to me specifically. "I'll give you some time to think about it. I'm here most nights. I'll give you a week to decide. If don't see you, I'm tipping her off that you're after her."

"She's aware," I say.

"I meant I'll make her disappear." He gives a curt nod and a chill rides through me. That could mean so many things, all of them potentially life-ending for my sister. "You come on board and all we ask is three favors at the discretion of the Morettis. When and where is up to them."

"Just three?" Jack muses.

"They like to work in threes. It's a holy number. They figure it's fair."

Jack turns my way. "Nice way to square things up with the man upstairs."

I can't tell if he's teasing or not or what his thoughts on the matter are, mostly because the lights are flickering like mad, the music has turned up ten decibels, and my head is spinning with all sorts of dark thoughts. Not to mention the words dirty fed are playing on repeat in my brain.

"A week," I say as I slide off the stool. "We'll see."

Jack and I take off back into the crowd. "Let's collect the goofballs we're related to and get out of here," he shouts over the music.

We head to the front, only to find Riley and Jet have migrated their way onto the stage and are busy collecting their own wad of ones.

The music switches to some throwback song from the eighties and Jack gives a Cheshire Cat smile. The entire club is on its feet swaying to the beat and even my own body begs to move despite the trauma that just ensued.

"Come on." He pulls me in and begins to sway to the music. "Let's forget about everything for two minutes," he says it low enough for me to have to read his lips.

Soon, Jack is swaying his hips with the best of them and it feels as if I've got my very own erotic dancer using me as a pole, as a willing victim to his ceaseless good looks and wicked charm.

And then I become one.

With the lights flashing on and off in shots of pink and blue, it all feels surreal, like a bad dream, a nightmare I can't seem to claw my way out of.

I wrap my arms around Jack, close my eyes, and dance the night away. And in a fit of lunacy, I thrust that wad of bills he gave me into the air and make it rain all over us.

I don't see why not. It's already raining misery.

Either I become a dirty fed or Erin winds up dead.

I've inadvertently put a price on my sister's head in an effort to bring her home safely.

I've always said I'd do anything to bring her back. And now the rubber meets the road.

Jack comes at me with a lusty look in his eyes as he cradles the back of my head.

He's coming in for the kill, I can feel it.

What's one more sidestep from my good senses?

He comes in close and I turn my head away at the last second.

Maybe there's hope for me yet.

I'm barreling down the path to becoming a pawn in the mob's pocket.

I wonder if I'll turn my head away.

I wonder if I can.