Midnight Alias: A Killer Instincts Novel (28 page)

Three pairs of eyes stared at him in disbelief.

“Jesus. You’re serious,” Trevor said.

“Olivia wants Angelo in prison. Hell, she
needs
him in prison in order to be safe. And she doesn’t want this shipment hitting the streets.” He set his jaw. “I’m going to make sure both those things happen.”

“Do I dare ask how?” Trevor asked dryly.

Luke turned to Holden. “Who’s that contractor we used last year in Haiti? The former DEA guy?”

“Liam Macgregor. And yeah, he was DEA, Boston field office.”

“Get me his number. He probably knows a shit ton about drug smuggling.” He sighed. “Look, I don’t expect you guys to stick around. Once we get confirmation that it was Dane’s corpse in that warehouse, y’all head back to the compound if you want.”

D cursed again.

Luke flashed him a dark look. “Like I said, don’t help. But me? I refuse to let Olivia get killed, and trust me, if I leave, she
will
get killed.”

There was a short silence, broken by Holden’s weary sigh. “I’ll stay.”

Luke shot the man a grateful look. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’ll talk to Morgan and see if he can spare me.”

Holden’s acquiescence definitely tipped the scales in Luke’s favor. The other men respected Holden and yielded to his judgment, so his involvement only boded well.

Sure enough, Trevor nodded. “I’ll stay too. And I’m sure it won’t be hard to twist Sully’s arm.”

Luke glanced over at the sliding door where D was brooding. “And I take it you’re out?”

“Tell me, is the sex that good, bro?”

He stiffened. “This isn’t about sex.”

D gave a derisive snort. “Right, because she won you over with her personality.”

Luke knew when he was being baited, and he wasn’t even surprised. D had been acting like a total bastard lately, dying for a fight. Like the way he’d taunted the guard at the warehouse to fight back, to give him an excuse to kill him. Luke had no clue what was up with his teammate, but he refused to give D what he wanted.

“She’s a good woman” was all he said. “And she asked for my help. End of story.”

“And how’s she going to return the favor this time?” D asked with a mocking slant of his head. “She already helped us find Dane, so what now? You help her, she screws you again?”

He tightened his lips. Nope. Not gonna take the bait.

“And what about the rest of us? Will she show us some gratitude too?” D’s black eyes glimmered.

A muscle in his jaw twitched.

“Toss a couple blow jobs our way?”

Luke launched himself at D, knocking the guy to the floor as his fist came crashing down on D’s jaw.

“That was un-fucking-called for,” Luke grunted. He jammed his forearm into D’s throat. “Now, you gonna tell me what’s up your ass or do I have to beat it out of you?”

An elbow shot up, slicing into his cheek.

Uh-huh. So that’s the way they were going to play it.

It had been a while since he’d found himself in a good old-fashioned brawl. Except this was more than a brawl, Luke realized when D turned total animal on him. The guy was merciless, flipping Luke over, pinning him down, and it was all he could do to block the fists swinging at him. As blood spurted from the corner of his mouth, he landed an uppercut that made D grunt, then locked his arms around the guy’s broad shoulders, sending them both smashing into the coffee table. Beer bottles crashed to the floor, breaking, spilling, but it didn’t slow either of them down.

By the time Trevor and Holden managed to break up the fight, the living room was a mess, both Luke and D were bleeding, and the silence was so deafening you could hear crickets.

“What. The. Fuck.” Trevor sounded livid, and it took Luke a second to realize the WTF had been directed at D.

D wiped the blood trickling out of his nose. “He started it,” he mocked.

“Because you goaded him,” Trevor snapped. “Christ, Derek. What is going on with you?”

D didn’t answer.

“Forget it. Even if you agree to help with this heroin bullshit, I don’t want you on it. I’m sending you back to Morgan. Maybe he can figure out what—” Trevor halted abruptly when his cell rang. He grabbed the phone from the table and let out a curse. “Speak of the devil.” He answered without delay. “What’s up, boss?”

Nobody said a word, including Trevor, who was listening intently to Morgan.

Luke used his sleeve to mop up the blood pouring from his lip. His head was reeling, adrenaline still coursing through his veins. He was sorely tempted to sidestep Holden and pound D some more, but he restrained himself. No point in stirring up more trouble, and besides, he had bigger things to worry about right now. D’s turbulent state of mind was not one of them.

Trevor hung up the phone. He didn’t say anything for several minutes, and when he finally did open his mouth, what came out was a slow burst of laughter.

Holden shot him a quizzical look. “What did Morgan want?”

The team leader laughed again before turning to D. “Gotta love irony, right, Derek?”

D scowled. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means that the favor Olivia asked of Luke? The one that you shot down with a fistfight? It’s just become official business.”

Luke raised his eyebrows in surprise. “What?”

“Morgan’s contact at the DEA checked in,” Trevor said. “They got the DNA results for the body in the warehouse.”

“And?” Luke prompted.

“And it wasn’t Carter Dane.”

Chapter 16

“I don’t like this,” Isabel murmured into her cell phone. Her gaze darted toward the back door of the club to make sure nobody was lurking around. She wouldn’t normally have taken Trevor’s call, not at the club where anyone could overhear her, but he’d sounded urgent enough that she’d had no choice but to duck outside.

And she was glad she had. Trevor had just informed her that the body in the warehouse wasn’t Carter Dane after all, which meant two things—the agent was still missing, and the assignment wasn’t over.

“I don’t like it either.” Trevor’s deep voice rang with the uneasiness currently tying Isabel’s gut in knots. “But the results were conclusive. The body we found wasn’t Dane’s.”

“So he’s still alive? Are we thinking double agent?”

“Possibly, but we can’t rule anything out. He might still be dead, or a captive, or . . .” Trevor’s voice trailed off.

Isabel wasn’t buying it. If Carter Dane was dead, then why the whole production of keeping that other hostage in the warehouse? With Dane’s ID, the identifying tattoo . . . someone had gone to a lot of trouble to make them
think
Dane was dead.

“Okay, there are a few options here,” she finally said. “One—Dane’s alive and in trouble.”

“Two—he’s alive and in cahoots with the people he was supposed to bust,” Trevor said.

“Three—he’s dead and the decoy stiff was intended to confuse us for whatever purpose. Four—”

“He’s alive, faked his death, and took off for some mysterious reason,” Trevor finished.

There could have been a hundred options, and she still wouldn’t be thrilled with any scenario. Besides, it didn’t matter whether Dane was in trouble or in cahoots with the enemy. Morgan’s team still needed to find the guy, and since snooping around the club hadn’t succeeded in uncovering Dane’s whereabouts, Morgan had decided to shake a few Mafia branches and see what fell out. In other words—go after Angelo himself in hopes that he would lead them to Dane.

“Why doesn’t the DEA intercept the shipment themselves?” she demanded.

“Because if they truly have a mole in their midst, he’ll tip Angelo off and the delivery probably won’t go down.”

“Do you think Dane will be present for the transaction?”

“Maybe. If not, then Angelo will. And when Angelo is nabbed, hopefully he’ll tell the DEA where their agent is. Dane’s supervisor is also hoping Angelo will flip on De Luca if they apply enough pressure on him.”

Isabel had to laugh. “You think he’ll rat? No way. I know how these men think, Trevor. He’ll never sell out his boss, not even to save his own ass.”

“Snitches get stitches, huh?”

“They get a lot more than stitches.” The image of her brother flew into her head, and she gulped, then forcibly banished all memories of Joey. “Look, I need to go back inside. But . . . I don’t know if I want to be involved in this, Trevor.”

His voice softened. “I already told you, you’re under no obligation. Morgan hired you to go undercover at a strip club, not to mess around in the drug trade. Nobody will be upset if you decide not to help.”

“Let me think about it, okay? I’ll call you later tonight.”

After they hung up, she headed for the dressing room to get ready for her shift. Once she’d slipped into something a lot less comfortable, she stared at her reflection in the mirror and kept her expression neutral. Behind her, the room bustled with activity. Girls changed into and out of costumes, applied makeup, chatted with one another. Isabel, on the other hand, was too busy working over this latest complication in her head.

“Can I use this?” a voice chirped.

She lifted her head to see Georgia gesturing to the black eyeliner pencil sitting on the cluttered vanity table. “I’m all outta black,” the dancer explained.

“Yeah, sure,” she said absently, handing the eyeliner over to the willowy brunette.

As the girl flounced off, Isabel forced herself to stick to the routine. Her shift wouldn’t be over for a couple more hours, so she didn’t have to reach a decision this very second. She had the rest of the afternoon to think about it. Sighing, she grabbed a tube of liquid foundation, squeezed some on her finger and began applying the makeup to her cheeks.

Trevor had told her that Olivia was determined to stop that heroin shipment from hitting the streets, and Isabel completely understood the other woman’s anger. Angelo was drugging dancers and prostituting them out to clients. He deserved to be punished, not just for that but also for all the other crimes he committed on a daily basis.

But were taking down Vince Angelo and finding a DEA agent she’d never even met big enough reasons for her to go head to head with the Mob again? There was a reason she’d quit the bureau. Working the organized-crime unit had been a pain in the ass. De Luca and the other four bosses were too freaking smart to slip up.

But Angelo might. Although she hadn’t encountered the guy during her government stint, she’d definitely heard of him. Eight years ago, he’d still been at the bottom of the totem pole, and now look at him—a big-time earner in charge of the boss’s drug distribution. Not as big as he wanted to be, though. The man was scrambling for more solid footing in the organization, and his greed and ambition would eventually be his undoing.

Still, she didn’t think Angelo would ever betray De Luca. But there was a chance he’d tell them where Dane was, if it meant reducing a jail sentence.

“Oh my God, what happened to your face?”

Georgia’s shrill demand had Isabel turning to the door. Her heart sank when she saw Heaven in the doorway. The blonde shrugged indifferently as she headed for the lockers, completely unfazed by the black eye she was sporting.

“Seriously, what
happened
?” Georgia demanded, her breasts bouncing beneath her skintight corset. “Are you okay?”

Heaven didn’t answer, and when it became obvious she wasn’t going to in this lifetime, Georgia frowned and stalked out the door. Some of the other dancers shot not-so-covert glances in Heaven’s direction, but the blonde ignored them as she removed her knee-length coat.

Isabel turned back to the mirror, following Heaven’s movements in the reflection. The girl was undressing, shoving her jeans, sweater, and high-heeled boots into her locker. When she got down to her bra and panties, she walked over to the station next to Isabel’s.

Isabel shifted her gaze, stifling a groan when she spotted the bluish bruising around the girl’s throat. “What happened?” she asked gently.

“I don’t really remember,” Heaven said dully.

The revelation brought a sharp pain to Isabel’s chest. Unable to stop herself, she reached out and touched the girl’s bare arm. Although the dancer’s eyes weren’t glazed, her lips were chapped to hell, hinting at a dry mouth, and her skin felt warm to the touch. Isabel’s gaze dropped to the veins on the inside of Heaven’s arm.

“You can’t keep doing this,” she murmured.

Heaven’s blue eyes flashed. “What are you, my mom?”

“Just a concerned friend.”

The girl scoffed. “We’re not friends. We just happen to take our tops off at the same club.”

“But you do more than take your top off, don’t you, sweetheart?” She shot Heaven a knowing look. “How many of those parties have you worked before, Heaven? Why do you keep agreeing to do it?”

She didn’t think she’d get a response, but to her surprise, Heaven’s expression turned frantic. “The money’s good, Candy. It’s so good. And—”

“And it supports your habit,” she finished. “Right? That’s why you fuck those men for Angelo. To pay for the shit you pump into your veins.”

Heaven flinched as if she’d been struck, but Isabel didn’t feel an ounce of remorse. Sometimes tough love was the only way to get through to people, and Heaven definitely needed a wake-up call.

“Your addiction will kill you,” she said bluntly. “You do realize that, right? You’re going to die if you keeping mainlining that crap.” She raised her eyebrows. “Or maybe the H
won’t
kill you. Maybe the next time you cater to Vince’s associates in a hotel room, you’ll get more than a black eye and a bruised throat. Did you think of that?”

Fear sparked in Heaven’s eyes. Her mouth fell open as if the thought had never occurred to her, but just when Isabel thought she might be getting through to the girl, Heaven’s mask of indifference returned.

“I don’t need a lecture,” Heaven mumbled. “I have to get ready.” With that, the girl fumbled around on the table for a tube of lipstick.

Blowing out a breath, Isabel picked up a charcoal eyeliner pencil, removed the cap, and scribbled a phone number on a gas station receipt she found on the vanity table. Without a word, she placed the paper in front of Heaven and stood up.