Chapter Eight Abby

Another day pretending to be a waitress.

The last customer had left, and the Red Lantern was winding down to a quiet hush. I untied my apron with one hand, the fabric falling away like the facade I put on every day. The other girls, a couple of teenagers, were already gossiping in the corner, their laughter a distant murmur over the clatter of dishes.

Lou, leaning on the counter, was wiping down the espresso machine with a practiced ease that came from years of closing up shop. He was an older guy, big with a mustache and kind eyes that crinkled at the corners.

"Hey, Lou," I started, tossing my apron into the laundry bin, "you ever hear about which places around here are...you know, Triad ops?"

He shot me a look, the kind that says ‘mind your own business,' but his lips cracked into a jokester's smile. "What are you, some kind of cop?" he chuckled, raising an eyebrow at me.

I forced out a laugh, trying to keep my voice light, to play it cool. "No way, just your average scared white girl wanting to avoid the bad parts of town, you know?"

"Is that right?" he said. "Then you might not want to ask that kind of question."

"Sorry, I just thought…maybe I should know," I replied, feeling a little embarrassed. Maybe I shouldn't have pushed it.

Lou's chuckle faded into a sigh, and he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Abby, look around. Every business on this block? There's a good chance the Triads have their fingers in the pie. But don't let it freak you out. This is the city—it's how things are. Keep your head down, do your work, stop asking questions like that."

"Right," I murmured, nodding as if I was taking his advice to heart. Inside, though, my mind was racing, ticking off mental notes. Every piece of information was a lead, and I had to be careful, even with Lou. I couldn't afford to slip up, not when I was this close. Not when I was starting to see the edges of the web I'd been sent here to unravel.

"You got what I'm saying, right?" he said, then his eyes narrowed. "You might want to be careful with customers too."

Of course he had seen that–my flirtation with Nate yesterday. But he couldn't be Triad…could he? I just couldn't see the sweet guy who gave me flowers being a deadly killer. I felt my cheeks redden as Lou looked at me, like he was reading my thoughts.

"Yeah, I got it, Lou. No more questions." I promised, pasting on a smile that didn't reach my eyes. It was time to blend back into the shadows I'd emerged from, the shadows where I did my best work. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye, Abby," he said. "Take care of yourself."

The evening air nipped at my cheeks as I shuffled from the historic Chinatown, with its bright paper lanterns and the scent of five-spice wafting through the air, down towards the grittier streets of the Tenderloin. Despite the chill, I couldn't help but smile. San Francisco had a way of doing that to me, its blend of beauty and edge always giving me a thrill.

My boots clicked on the sidewalk, echoing off the walls of tightly packed buildings. I kept my gaze forward, hands buried deep in my pockets. The city's charm was not lost on me, but neither was its danger. I was a fresh face in an old game, and I planned to play it well.

I was surprised to find the apartment noisy with music and the sound of my roommate humming as I walked in, hanging my keys on a hook by the door. My roommate, Erika Tanaka, usually worked nights while I worked days, meaning we didn't see much of each other–but she was friendly, funny. I always liked her company when I got it, even if I'd spent our entire friendship lying to her.

Nobody in this city knew who I was, save for Tyler Matthews.

"Abby!" Erika's voice pulled me from my thoughts as I stepped into our apartment. She emerged from the bathroom, her enthusiasm as vivid as the red lipstick she was applying. "I haven't seen you in ages!"

"Tell me about it! I hate having opposite shifts," I said with a shrug, brushing off the exaggeration. Our schedules rarely aligned…which had started out as a good thing, since I didn't want to blow my cover, but had turned into more of an inconvenience. I was getting lonely, and it was starting to impact my work; Tyler could see it, Lou could see it.

If I didn't get my shit together, I could get killed.

"I meant to ask you, where did you get those?" Her eyes darted to the old electric kettle on our kitchen counter, now serving as an impromptu vase for a bouquet of flowers.

"Next door to Red Lantern," I replied, setting my keys on the table. "The guy from the flower shop gave them to me. I think he's been flirting."

"Really?" Erika leaned against the doorway, interest piqued. "Do you know his name?"

I hesitated, my mind flickering back to those dark, intense eyes that didn't seem to match his gentle touch with the flowers. "Nate," I said. "He came in for a coffee today and I gave him my phone number."

"You slut, I love that for you," she said. "What's he like?"

"I don't know. Hot? Tall?"

"You can do better than that," she urged me on, a grin spreading over her face. "Describe him?"

"Um," I said, not sure where to start. "He's got this black hair that falls just right, you know? And tan skin. Looks like someone who spends time outdoors but doesn't talk about it." I paused, feeling a weird clench in my gut. "His eyes are almost black—they kind of pull you in."

"Sounds hot," Erika commented, wiggling her eyebrows teasingly.

"Yeah, maybe," I mumbled, the image of his smile coming back to me now.

I couldn't afford the luxury of being distracted by a cute stranger, no matter how fucking attractive he was.

"Maybe?" she asked as she turned away. I followed her to her open bedroom, where she took a seat in front of her vanity.

"Okay, he's really hot," I said. "Ridiculously."

"He sounds very hot," she said, flipping her straightened hair over her shoulder. "Girl, if you don't go for it, I might."

"Well, you don't even know the guy…"

"I know you have standards," she replied, winking at me. "I've seen you swiping on guys."

"Erika, slow down," I said. "You're so thirsty."

"I just haven't been laid for ages," she said. "Seems like a shared affliction."

I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms over my chest as I leaned against the doorframe. I desperately wanted to change the topic. "You look great. What are you getting ready for?"

"Thank you!" Erika said, applying a final swipe of mascara, "I've got the golden ticket to Fusion. You know, that swanky place on Ninth? I've been buttering up the bouncer for weeks. Finally got him to agree to let me skip the line."

"Sounds like you've got it all planned out." My voice was even, but inside, my pulse quickened. Fusion wasn't just any club—it was a velvet-rope fortress where the city's dark underbelly liked to play. This was a great place for me to get info on the Triads.

"Absolutely. I'm in need of some serious fun after slinging drinks all day, and who knows..." She shot me a sideways glance through the mirror, a mischievous sparkle in her eye. "I might not come home alone if things go my way."

"Good luck with that," I said, keeping my tone light while my mind raced. If Erika could get into Fusion, so could I—and with Triad members frequenting the place, it was the perfect opportunity to glean information. Or at least, that's what I told myself as I stifled the twinge of concern for her safety.

"Thanks, roomie." Erika grinned, popping her lips with gloss. "You should come out sometime, live a little."

"Maybe one day," I replied with a shrug, though I knew that ‘living a little' wasn't in the cards for an FBI agent deep undercover. But tonight...tonight might just be that one day.

I watched her for a moment, the way she flitted about the room with an energy that was both enviable and exhausting. I rarely let myself get drawn into these moments of normalcy, the kind where you could forget about the lurking dangers and the lies that coated my every word like thick honey.

"Hey, Erika," I said, my voice casual as I fiddled with a strand of curly hair. "You know what? Maybe I'll take you up on that offer. Mind if I tag along tonight?"

She spun around, her eyes wide with surprise, mascara wand suspended mid-air. "Really?" She blinked at me. "I mean, yeah, of course! But aren't you more the quiet night in type? You always seem to prefer your sketches and books over strobe lights and bass drops."

Actually, those were FBI work notes, but she didn't need to know that. "Yeah, guilty as charged," I said.

"But you want to go out tonight?" she asked. "You're not joking?"

"I'm not. Maybe it's time I shook things up a bit," I replied, trying not to betray the urgency beneath my cool exterior. The truth was, I needed to be where the whispers slithered through the shadows, even if it meant stepping outside my comfort zone.

"Alright then, bad girl Abby coming out to play!" Erika laughed, the sound rich with delight. "This is going to be epic. We'll make it a night to remember."

"Let's hope so," I murmured, feeling the weight of my hidden agenda settle heavy on my shoulders. But as I met her gaze in the mirror, all I offered was a smile—one that didn't quite reach my eyes but served its purpose.

"Great! Do you need me to lend you a dress?" Erika turned back to her reflection, humming under her breath as she resumed her makeup routine.

"No, I'm fine," I said. "I think I have something to wear."

"Perfect," she said.

My thoughts were already racing ahead of the evening's potential risks and rewards. Tonight, Fusion wouldn't just be a dance floor—it would be a battlefield. And I was walking straight into enemy territory, armed with nothing but a fake ID and a prayer that I could dance this delicate line without missing a step.

And if I didn't…then Agent Matthews might be right.

And we might all end up paying with our lives.