Page 11 of Colton’s Secret Identity

You’re Hawk.

“Yeah, can’t you see that your boss is busy, Hank? We’re making good on our contract. This is how we seal the deal around here, right, sugar?” Dylan slapped the top of the covers for effect. A loud giggle he’d never heard come out of Veronica underscored that she was undercover, too, and that they were both committed to the assignment.

Dylan gritted his teeth as he fought against the erection that threatened to blow his cover with Veronica, though. He had to keep this professional.

“Uh, so sorry. I’ll wait outside.” Hank’s head disappeared and he closed the door. Dylan didn’t like crooks of any kind, but he hated the ones he didn’t have in his sights. For the second time in five minutes he grasped Veronica’s hips and silently lifted her off him. He slid out of the bed and got to his feet, motioning for her to keep talking as he slipped into his jeans and pulled his handgun from his boot. He flattened himself against the bedroom wall and turned the switch off.

Silence descended and Dylan waited, listening for additional footsteps. The only sound was Hank’s nervous pacing on the other side of the door. The steps stopped on the other side of the door, and the door opened a crack.

Hank really had no idea what awaited him if he made one wrong move.

“Boss? You sure you’re okay in there? We should talk out here.”

As if they’d practiced their reply all night, their words rang out in unison.

“Damn it, Hank!”

“What could be so important that you had to barge into my place this late, Hank? Everything was fan-freakin’-tastic until now!” Veronica yelled at the almost-closed bedroom door. With Dylan off the bed—he’d adroitly maneuvered himself from under the covers to the wall, armed with his pistol and ready in case Hank reentered—she made a show of pulling the sheet up to her armpits, and waved at the crack in the door she was certain he still peered through. “Close my bedroom door for gnat’s sake and give me a minute.”

She stood, dragging the sheet with her as she stomped to the door and wrenched it open. Hank jumped backward so fast that the back of his legs hit her coffee table and he landed in the center of the cheap piece of furniture. One loud crack of the fiberboard tabletop and a solid thump later, Hank was on his butt staring up at her, his eyes wide and her table destroyed.

“I’m on my last nerve with you.” She held her arm across her chest, making sure he’d see her weapon. “Out on the porch, now!” She jabbed his thigh with her bare foot, urging him to scramble onto his feet and scoot for the door.

On the porch, she closed the door as far as she could without engaging the bolt, as she didn’t want to have to repeat anything Hank said to her. Clearly she and Dylan were working different sides of the same undercover op. Anger welled in her gut. Dylan was damn lucky she hadn’t blown his head off.

“Boss. I was just checking on you.” Hank’s voice broke through her distraction. She couldn’t ascertain if his breathlessness was from his recent exertion or his typical high-strung demeanor.

“One that couldn’t wait until morning?” She glared at him.

“I, uh, I wanted to make sure you were safe, boss. That’s all. But since we’re here, you should know that we, uh, we brought in more tonight than we have in the last three weeks. All on Hawk’s product.”

“Since when are you worried about my safety after hours, Hank?”

Hank’s eyes darted right and left under the feeble porch light, and she used the opportunity to quickly scan the parking lot below. Sure enough, a strange car that hadn’t been there when she’d returned to the apartment sat parked in the darkest part of the lot. Was it Rex? Was this part of their new “opportunity” with Hawk? The part where Rex had Hank take her out because she’d agreed to go behind Rex’s back and had sold Hawk’s goods tonight? She tightened her grip on her handgun, the sweat from her palms trickling against roughened composite.

“Hey, I’m just doing my job, boss. I wanted to make sure you got back safe and sound since it was our first night with the new product. You know, in case anything went tits—ah, boobs, I mean—ass up with our new business opportunity.”

“The only thing I had going in that direction just ended, thanks to you, Hank.” She bit out the words and didn’t have to feign anger. Hank had come up here to steal the passcodes to the safe, she was fairly certain. She made a show of writing down new codes each night in a tiny notebook, which she left locked in her top desk drawer in the office in case he needed them. He’d insisted on watching her write the codes each night, to “be your backup with the numbers, since we change them every night.” Unbeknownst to Hank, she swapped out the notebook with an identical one each night, and purposefully wrote the wrong codes in the fake book that she left in the office. Hank had never told her he’d had a hard time getting into the safe, which meant he’d never tried. He wouldn’t have been able to. But tonight, the tremendous cash flow had clearly given him reason.

Had he planned to start skimming off their earnings, or something else? Was Hank planning on disappearing with all the cash?

The surplus of cash had, in fact, stunned her. In a single night they’d moved more than half of the product that was supposed to last a week, and the drug safe would need replenishment before their payment was due to Hawk. Unlike Rex who left them hanging for more product, thus controlling their cash flow, Hawk had promised an “unlimited supply.”

“Well, you can see I’m safe and sound, Hank.”

“When did Hawk show up, boss?”

“I don’t see why that’s any of your business. Haven’t you ever heard of ‘sealing the deal’? Go to bed and don’t come back until after ten.” She made a show of going back inside and slamming the door, turning the lock she knew was pointless against Hank and, therefore, Rex.

And whoever had been watching them from the parked car.

Chapter 6

Dylan watched Veronica make them each a cup of coffee. As much as they both needed sleep, they needed to work out the details of their operation more. It was impossible to not watch her brew their drinks, as the only place to sit was at one of two rickety chairs that flanked a vintage drop-leaf table. He chose the chair that faced the only entry and also the camper-sized kitchen.

“You’re sure that we’re safe talking here?” He made a motion with his hand to indicate the possible presence of bugs, and not the creepy-crawly kind.

A brisk nod, a sincere shared glance. “It’s part of my daily routine, trust me.”