“You beat up your source?” Romeo smiled. “My kind of woman.”
She gave him a small smile in return. “No. Some guys were proving a point. My source took a beating.”
Sarge’s bushy brows collided. “Are you telling me you had a perfect opportunity to get in with this guy and you didn’t take it? Son of a—
what the hell were you thinking?
”
She forced her expression to show nothing. “I don’t know, Sarge. Maybe I thought I couldn’t sit around cozying up to Saven with the kid laid out. Maybe I did the right thing for a change.” Wasn’t that part of this damn program? Rehabilitation?
A moment of silence.
“Did you at least get information from your source?” Sarge asked, void of all emotion. The creep.
“Dealer named Tommy, hangs out at the pier arcade. Short, older, has a yellow tail down his back. I started to set up a deal when I saw the kid being dragged out by two goons. By the time it was over, the dealer had split. He’ll go back though, it’s his usual place. What’s interesting is that Saven wanted to know about my conversation with the dealer.”
“And?” Sarge said.
“That’s all. I didn’t tell him. I’ll check out Skates’s lead tomorrow night.”
“You’ll fit in, all right,” Jax said. “With all that leather and loving.”
“If she wants to go,” Sarge said. “Let her. She let a perfect opportunity slip through her fingers.”
Her hands fisted. “
Nothing
slipped through my fingers.”
Sarge held up a hand. It instantly reminded her of Jonas Saven. “We’ll worry about it tomorrow. Tonight, you’re heading to Zero with Digit.”
“Of course I am. With practically an engraved invitation.” When Sarge gaped at her, she added, “Saven personally invited me to Zero tonight.”
Invited
sounded so much better than
ordered
.
“Anything else you neglected to tell me? Like what was he doing at the pier?”
“Oh yeah,” she answered, mocking him. “He happened to mention that right before his confession to the Ecstasy deal.”
Sarge ignored her and faced the rest of the team.
“Jax has made contact with Tomas Garcia about a cocaine deal. They took the bait and set up a meet for tonight with his brother, Rico. Jay-man will accompany him, since things got risky today.
“Romeo, I want you to find what you can about this X dealer Saven was interested in. Switch and Digit, get as close as you can to Saven or Brooks. This time, Switch, play your cards right. Search out and see if anything’s pushed there. If any of you get in trouble, connect with the firehouse.”
Romeo cleared his throat.
Sarge scowled. “What?”
“You think it’s a good idea sending the ladies to the club alone?” He smiled. “They may need a real man to go with them.”
Ana snorted the same time Digit said, “That leaves you out.”
“Settle down,” Sarge commanded. “You questioning my orders, Romeo?”
“No, Sarge.”
“Didn’t think so. They’ll be fine.”
Jay-man returned, his face stern. Everyone focused on him.
“Well?” Sarge said.
“Skates isn’t at Switch’s apartment.”
Ana climbed up two flights of linoleum steps to her studio apartment and pulled out her lock-picking tools from a thigh pocket in her pants. A smirk curved her lips as she inserted the tools into the lock. Straight irony breaking into her own apartment, wasn’t it? But her spare keys were
inside
her place. She turned the knob and kicked open the door.
Her twin bed sat in the corner unmade, twisted blankets the only evidence of her hellish night. A few pieces of clothing still littered the scuffed wooden floors.
It didn’t look like Skates had made it here at all. Where was he? Would he risk her own spot in SIDE by getting her in trouble? He knew they both walked a thin line with Sarge.
Listen to me carefully, Switch. Sick or not, Skates better be back here tomorrow. Or both of you will be up Shit Creek, you got that?
She’d known Skates approximately two weeks—since he’d first set foot in the firehouse. Could anybody really get to know a person in such a brief time? Hell, she’d been in SIDE six months and she didn’t know the team from her own mother. Although that wasn’t saying much, since she could only recall glimpses of the woman.
For the first time, she found herself risking her freedom for someone and she didn’t understand why. Max was likely rolling over in his grave.
She remembered when he started preaching to her. She’d gotten into a fight at the girls’ home for trying to stop one of the older Latina girls from picking on a younger Asian girl. Even then she’d been tested, given a choice to either join a group of her own race by turning her back, or be shunned for choosing the wrong side.
Yeah, she’d helped the younger girl, but in Ana’s eyes, she’d chosen her own side.
The Latina girls had felt differently.
“Ana,” Max had said. “You want to survive in this damn city on your own, you gotta be tough. You gotta look out for
numero uno
.” It had always seemed strange when Spanish words were forced out in Max’s east coast accent. “Yourself. Don’t go helping people when you aren’t going to get anything in return. You have acquaintances, not friends. Hell, you don’t even got me. Understand?”
Ana at age seven, sitting in the visitor’s chair, feet dangling, her right eye black and blue, had simply nodded as Max’s words caused her throat to tighten.
But Max had been the only one to come to visit her, the only one who had taken the time to tell her about a father she couldn’t remember. So she’d had to make Max happy by doing as he asked or maybe he wouldn’t have visited her anymore and reminded her that someone had once actually loved her.
Ana’s cell vibrated. She blinked away the memory of Max and glanced at the number. Voice mail. It wasn’t official SIDE business. Sarge used texted codes.
She dialed voice mail.
“You have one message.”
She punched in her code.
“Switch, it’s Skates.” His voice sounded hesitant, not shaky like when she’d last seen him. “I didn’t make it to your place. I got sick halfway there.” He paused and she heard low voices in the background. A public place. A restaurant, maybe?
“I screwed up today and you helped me. Thanks.” There was something in his voice, as if maybe no one ever had. She knew the feeling. “I’m not going to let Doms scare me off.”
Oh crap. Another pause. Ana could imagine him taking a big swallow. “There’s something that pissed him off about me asking questions about the X, you know? I gotta check it out. I have to.” The last was said with such determination, Ana shook her head.
“End of messages. Press one to delete—”
She pressed to disconnect.
“Damn, Skates. You’re going to get yourself killed.”
Friday
9:35 p.m.
Ana watched Digit apply strawberry red lipstick with an expert hand while using the wall-to-wall mirror in Zero’s ladies room. Like a veteran painter, natural and instinctive, she stroked on layers of color.
Ana didn’t usually wear cosmetics, but she knew she had to embellish her looks when a mission called for it. Her lips were colored with burgundy, her eyes lined, her lashes extended with mascara, and her body fitted in a long-sleeved spandex dress that cut just below her butt. She had the task of catching Saven’s eye.
It wouldn’t be easy standing out among the throng of leggy Caucasian women usually accompanying him. She ran a hand down the smooth line of her hip. She had to admit, after the way he’d taken control at the pier today with his demands, it would be very rewarding to have the upper hand on him this evening.
“So what’s the game plan?” Digit asked.
Ana smothered her anticipation. Was she enjoying the idea of this mission too much? “There are three floors. I say we work from the top down. From the looks of it, the joint’s clean. High-class. If there’s anything being passed, it’s through the crowd. Check out this bathroom—it could double for a lounge. You could fit three of my apartments in here.”
Maroon carpet covered the floor, and the walls were painted ivory, with strategically placed art. Barriers of frosted glass separated the stalls from the rest of the room, and silver-plated sinks lined the opposite wall. A floral scent lingered in the air. Then again, maybe it was a lounge, with women sitting on sofas and whispering in corners.
Digit ran a hair pick through her waist-length auburn waves. “Looks can be deceiving,” she murmured.
Something odd flickered in Digit’s eyes. Ana didn’t feel comfortable asking her what she meant, but in a way she agreed with her. She’d always been judged by the ethnicity of her features. By the color of her skin, the tilt at her eyes. Reactions from others had been anywhere from negative put-downs to someone merely speaking to her in Spanish, assuming she knew the language. What everyone didn’t understand was that even though Ana was half Mexican, she hardly knew anything about her own culture. That likely wasn’t what Digit meant by her comment, though.
Digit walked around with an Einstein brain and the kind of curves in all the right places that left men tripping over their hanging tongues. She’d been arrested for hacking into bank accounts and electronically withdrawing funds, accumulating close to quarter of a million. To say they didn’t have a lot in common would be an understatement. Truthfully, Digit’s usual flawless perfection in her appearance and life was almost intimidating to Ana. Another glaring reminder they came from different upbringings. Ana from the streets, Digit from a typical suburban family. Ana didn’t feel comfortable calling her a friend, but Digit had been nice to her in the months they’d known each other, and she was as close to a friend as Ana had.
Giving a small smile, Ana combed her gaze down her teammate’s laser blue dress, which fit her hourglass figure like a glove. “Looks aren’t deceiving from where I’m standing.”
Digit’s lips curved. “Thanks, I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Ana leaned against the smooth marble counter, rubbing her fingers over the swirling dark lines. “You know, you’re more of Saven’s type. He’s been known to escort beautiful women. Maybe you should try to get close to him.”
“Come on, he’s interested in you.”
Ana shook her head. “There’s another reason he asked me here. I just haven’t figured it out yet.”
“Swi—Ana,” Digit corrected, when a lady walked up beside them to fluff her hair in the mirror. “You have great eyes, fantastic hair and a pretty face. Why wouldn’t he be interested?”
That’s the problem. He may be interested. I may be interested…
“I just thought you might have a better chance.” Ana straightened. “What was up with Romeo today?”
Digit’s blues eyes narrowed. “Typical male, thinking the helpless women need a big, strong man to protect them. He gets on my nerves.”
Ana’s lips curved. “Don’t hold back.”
“I mean, really. Everything out of his mouth is some dumb pick-up line. He used his looks and charms to lure older women to give him their savings.” She winced. “How gross is that?”
Ana lifted her eyebrows. “What about the bank accounts you stole from? There could have been a few elderly folks’ life savings in the bundle you pulled in.”
“What he did was personal. He’d been intimate with them—” She cut herself off, then waved a hand as if dismissing him from her mind. “Enough about him. What about Skates? Is he okay?”
She didn’t know. That was the problem.
I can’t go back to a cage, Ana. I can’t. I’ll die in there.
She had to believe Skates’s words were just what they were—words, said while feeling the effects of the high. He’d be okay. He wouldn’t get himself caught in that dealer’s dirty fingers again. Right?
“Ana?”
“Um, yeah. I’m sure he’s fine.”
Digit’s cell went off. “Firehouse.” She slipped the cell phone out of her purse and read the message. Then she pulled out a palm planner. The woman never failed to write anything down.
“Okay, top floor first sounds good,” she said, squiggling notes onto the tiny screen. “I’m to report to the firehouse ASAP after we’re done. Sarge needs me for a computer search regarding Tyler.”
“What’s he got?”
“He didn’t say.” She snapped the palm planner closed. “You know Sarge, a man of few words. If I spot Brooks, I’ll still move in. Saven’s all yours.”
“How did I get so lucky?”
Digit searched her face. “Problem?”
“Just trying to figure out my strategy.”
Digit smiled, her eyes brightening. “The hell with strategy. Strut your stuff on the dance floor and believe me, he’ll find you.”
“Jonas, what are your plans tonight?”
Jonas shifted his attention to the brunette pressed next to him. Classic beauty. Tasteful makeup. A long slim body with a great set of breasts. A shame she hadn’t been born with them.
The brunette smiled. “I’m free.”
“Busy opening night, Cynthia. I’ll be tucking myself in early. Alone.”
“Hmm. Too bad.” She leaned in close to his ear and whispered exactly what he would be missing.
His lips curved. “I’m sure I’ll regret it. Have a good night.” He kissed her cheek and walked away scanning the crowd.
A profitable turnout. They’d nearly hit their body limit, with a line still outside the door. Too soon to tell how well the club would fare. Nightclubs constantly opened, closed, and changed their names in the city. Some didn’t last more than a year. Jonas planned to make this club last.
A mixture of hip-hop and techno played throughout the club. The dance floor was packed, the bar filled.
Which left him with one slight problem. How would he find one little thief in a dim mass of constantly moving bodies? Ticked him off he hadn’t caught her name.
Having a talk with his doorman and giving her description was the best he could do. Odds were good that she’d show. He made his warning clear: he’d go looking for the kid if he didn’t get back what was his. If she cared enough to help her friend by standing up to two pieces of scum, then she’d show up with the wallet.
If she was one of Dolini’s regular customers, she might know about that dealer’s Ecstasy trafficking. He’d probe her for information. Wouldn’t be difficult to turn up the charm to get answers. She was attractive. The attitude she dished out could be overlooked for now.
Jonas turned and noticed a problem.
A crowd had formed in the center of the dance floor. Not good. Incidents tended to get out of hand in a room this packed.
He grabbed his two-way phone and pressed the code for Joseph, one of the bouncers.
“Joe here,” came through the reply.
“Problem on dance floor one. Watch my back.”
“Yes, Mr. Saven.”
Jonas hooked the phone on his belt, then pushed through tangled warm bodies and proceeded to the middle of the floor.
Reaching the center, he stopped short.
It was
her
.
No one would mistake the thief for an adolescent tonight.
A very short, long-sleeved black dress contoured her nicely curved bottom, revealing toned, smooth legs. Calf-high boots pumped up her height two inches. Hips swaying sensually, she danced too damn close with some slick idiot—a Don Juan with his shirt open and gold chains hanging from his thick neck—and a good-looking redhead. By the way the guy tried to cop a feel from each woman, he was dancing in sleaze heaven.
Tension radiated up Jonas’s back.
Two attractive women and one man. Hands roamed, bodies brushed. A sensual vibe floated off them and onto their audience.
If he’d wanted a sideshow, he would have hired an act himself.
Pushing closer, he reached out and grabbed the thief’s slim arm, intent on turning her around to face him. But hell, when he pulled her toward him, she countered with her own maneuver, breaking his hold and stepping away. The action was as fluid as her dance, and just as unexpected.
Her defined eyebrows lowered in a scowl, eyes skewering him like jeweled daggers. Annoyance flickered in her gaze before her shoulders visibly relaxed.
Not the usual reaction he received from women.
A heavy hand slammed down on his shoulder. Jonas tensed.
The Don Juan.
Motioning to Joseph, he turned toward Don and raised his voice over the music. “Problem?”
“Yeah, I got a problem,” Don hollered back, his mono-brow nearly swallowing his small eyes. “I’m dancing with the broad.”
“Not anymore.” Jonas stared at him hard. Cold.
The guy sneered, stepping forward.
Jonas shifted on his feet.
“Hey, big guy,” the redhead said to Don. “You and I can dance just fine on our own.” She winked at her friend, the thief, before pulling Don away. The crowd lost interest and melted back into the throng of dancers.
Petite hands moved up Jonas’s shoulders. The thief’s body brushed against him, her small breasts level with his torso.
He looked down at her, willing his body to relax. Her mouth, slicked with maroon, curved up, a little crooked. Cute. Her lashes had been thickened, yet that and the lip color were the only enhancements. She didn’t need makeup. Could be the different nationalities in her heritage mixed together to make that interesting face… Something about her drew the eye.
Since her previous attitude had vanished, he took it as a green light to grip her narrow waist. At his touch, she faltered a moment before regaining the motions of her hips. Her body moved to the music with him, with subtle touches of her body against his. Soft, yet firm, the material of her dress slid under his fingers. He was accustomed to larger-hipped women, so it was a bit of a jolt to be holding someone so petite. If he hadn’t witnessed her fighting off a man nearly twice her height, he would have thought her fragile.
What the hell caused this one-eighty? Earlier, at the pier, she’d been a spiteful brat, but now…
Her breasts bumped his chest, her fingers gliding onto his neck. His body stirred, reacted. He looked at her wet lips. Soft looking, sweet. He wanted a taste.
Maybe he wanted it too much.
In the middle of moving bodies, heat consumed him. The first sign of perspiration prickled down his back. He frowned as the music blared around them. Biting back an oath, he took her wrist and started off the dance floor. He needed air.
She planted her feet.
He turned and leaned down to her ear. A delicate whiff of strawberry scent drifted from her, along with the subtle scent of feminine sweat. “I just want to talk.”
He met her guarded gaze.
The music pulsed around them. Anticipation curled inside him. He wanted her alone, without any distractions.
When she gave a nod, he headed straight for the nearest exit. He pushed open the door and the cold air wrapped around his neck with icy fingers.
Damn. Too cold.
An apology nearly left his tongue when she bit out, “What are we doing out here?”
He narrowed his gaze, which traveled lower down her body. He cursed out loud at what he saw.
It was either curse or fall on all fours begging.
“Don’t you have anything on under that dress?”
What the hell was it about her that attracted him? So what if her nipples pebbled against her dress like an open invitation? They weren’t the first he’d seen, and no way would they be the last. But the way he stirred at the sight annoyed the hell out of him.
She looked up, tilting her head. “I don’t think it’s any of your business what I have—or don’t have—under my dress.”
His thoughts went south, imagining only soft bare skin under that velvety material. Shit. He cleared his throat.
“Look, I brought what you wanted.” She opened a little purse held by a string strapped across her chest and pulled out his wallet.
Relief hit him square in the chest. He took the worn brown leather in his hand and rubbed his thumb across the cracked surface. When he flipped it open to check the contents, a rotten egg scent drifted to his nostrils. Not a real issue. He’d get it cleaned. Having it back was what mattered. He slipped the wallet inside his front pants pocket. “Thank you.”
She nodded. “I almost thought it belonged to the other guy until I looked inside. Your ID’s still in there, some cards. Mouse just wanted the cash.” She looked him over. “A bit shabby for your taste, isn’t it?”
Yeah, but he wouldn’t disclose his reason for keeping it to this little woman-slash-thief.
His eyes in turn scanned her trim body. “Mine vary, apparently.”
She studied him. “Is that right?”
“Yes, it is.” He stepped closer to her. “You know my name. What’s yours?”
One delicate finger swept a lock of inky black hair off her cheek. “Ana.”
It suited her. Simple, yet sexy. “And you’re twenty-one?” He offered a doubtful expression. No question after tonight she was an adult. But in order to be sure who he was dealing with, he wanted her identification.
She exhaled a breath, clearly stating his inquiry inconvenienced her. The action caused her small breasts to rise and fall. A nice bonus. She reached again into her purse and fished out an identification card.