Page 1 of Colton’s Secret Identity

Chapter 1

Rap rap rap.

Veronica Martin’s—aka Monique Patterson’s—arm moved to her side, her fingers poised to unsnap the leather holster and retrieve her Glock 19. But the silky fabric under her fingertips reminded her that she didn’t have her .22 pistol at her side, and hadn’t for months. Undercover as a drug trafficking nightclub owner in Red Grove, North Dakota, meant she’d traded in her Red Grove PD uniform for bodycon outfits that reflected her status as the boss lady of Frisky. The nightclub was on the outskirts of town, and actually attracted more out-of-towners than locals, so she was able to work undercover in the same town where she worked. She’d changed her trademark, long auburn hair for a brunette pixie wig, and she altered her looks with a lot more makeup—including the ridiculous false eyelashes that she’d just applied—than her usual light touch.

Her sexier clothing choices left no room for a holster or body armor, which meant she had no weapons but her wits and solid police training to protect her from the criminal vermin that teemed through Frisky on the regular. Frisky was Red Grove’s most thriving nightclub, in fact. Well, its only nightclub to speak of.

The mental image of her police belt worn over the tight white skirt that she’d paired with a black silk blouse and killer stilettos did make her smile, though.

Rap rap rap. Whoever stood outside the small apartment’s door had little patience.

“Coming.” She issued the command in her recently adopted sultry bitch-on-wheels persona as she used a surveillance app on her phone that connected to the outside hidden camera. There were plenty of security cameras inside the nightclub, but none focused on the door to her apartment.

She confirmed the lone figure was her club assistant Hank, then opened the door and turned her back to him as dismissively as possible in the impractical shoes. They’d be the first thing she’d kick off if she needed to make a break for it.

When you need to run.

“This better be worth it, Hank.”

“Trust me, boss, it is.” He entered and shut the door behind him, his cheap cologne preceding him by several feet. He was dressed in his usual low-end, shiny-fabric suit—complete with bolero and cowboy boots—and his beady eyes sparked with triumph under his too-big cowboy hat. “You’re going to be very pleased.” The little turd was always thrilled to have tea to spill.

Hank was a necessary thorn in her side. It was beyond obvious to her that he was her babysitter, kept to make sure she stayed in line with the best interests of the drug trafficking ring. He pretended to be the nightclub “money” guy, and they both worked for Bill “Rex” Romo, the behind-the-scenes nightclub “owner.” Rex was really one of the major distributors of the drug cartel, with dozens of dealers reporting to him. Veronica knew this from her short time at Frisky.

Rex and Hank believed that Veronica was a woman who’d moved from Texas looking to run a business without worrying about the “administrative side,” as Hank had referred to it during her hiring interview. That had been the only time that she’d ever met Rex in person—accompanied by a silent bodyguard everyone called Bulldog—but it had been enough to pick up on his ruthless vibes. Hank’s subservient behavior in front of Rex was another dead giveaway. Her assistant had all but licked the criminal’s shiny, alligator-skin cowboy boots. But true to her undercover persona, she’d acted as if she was overjoyed to meet Rex and have “the job opportunity I’ve been searching for my entire life.” Hank had fallen for her disguise and played the part of her right-hand man, not realizing she planned to have both him and Rex in cuffs with their artery of the major drug distribution operation severed.

The benefit of Hank’s gossipy side was that he unwittingly let his guard down often, and kept Veronica up to date on any incoming threat. He regularly supplied her with the intel she needed to help bring down the drug ring that had been tightening its ugly grip around Red Grove and, in fact, a good portion of North Dakota. The gang’s criminal activity wasn’t limited to drug trafficking, either, as several murders had recently been reported. Where there were drugs, there were unexplained homicides. As much as she wanted to work alongside her fellow police to solve the presumed cartel-related killings, this new piece of the ugly puzzle wasn’t her concern. At least not until she brought down Rex.

Veronica considered herself a single mallet in the deadly game of criminal threat whack-a-rodent, especially when it came to narcotrafficking. She would never give up on doing her part to shut down the drug ring, not after surviving firsthand the devastation illicit narcotics did to a community. To a family. To her family.

Tawny.

She couldn’t hold back the flood of memories that the mere thought of Tawny released. When Tawny had first died, the pain had been so intense that Veronica hadn’t been able to allow herself to review all of the memories. Not without a complete breakdown, everything from sobbing on her bedroom floor to bursts of anger at losing Tawny, too young, too soon that found her pounding her pillow at night or throwing rocks, hard, into the Red Grove quarry. Nothing could bring back her beloved sister, though, and as her heart learned to accept the truth, memories of their happier times together had surfaced. In this moment she recalled how the sunshine would play off Tawny’s infectious smile, the one she’d given Veronica—no, gifted her—every time they saw a pretty butterfly, or when they dug into a shared container of chocolate peanut butter ice cream.

Tawny was why she was here, dressed as a nightclub manager.

Her heart contracted with grief she’d learned to live with since her sister had died. But this wasn’t the time to replay the horrific family films in her mind that detailed the complete obliteration of the loving family unit she’d grown up with. There was nothing she could do about Tawny’s spiral into opiate addiction and premature death, but if she could prevent one family from the same suffering, this potentially deadly assignment was worth it.

“Ready for it?” Hank’s cheeks were flushed, his excitement palpable.

“What is it?” She didn’t have to fake the air of impatience in her tone as she glared at him. “I’ve got a full schedule before we open tonight. I’ve got calls to make. So do you, Hank. We’re getting our weekly delivery, and last week’s didn’t make it through the third day. Our patrons will go elsewhere if Rex doesn’t up our inventory.” She referred to the arrival of meth and fentanyl. No matter how long she remained undercover, she’d never get used to acting as if selling the illegal substances was a legit business. Anathema to the very core of her beliefs.

“Well, let me tell you, sugar, nothing you have on your books today matters any more. The most important meeting you’ll ever have here in Red Grove is today.” Hank believed Veronica had only arrived in North Dakota from Texas a few months ago, determined to run her own business after years as an assistant manager to various types of nightclub establishments. The sheriff’s task force that she worked for had come up with a stellar résumé and background for her cover that included running two different strip clubs outside of Amarillo, which the gangsters that actually owned Frisky had believed. When they’d indicated she’d be expected to “continue our central business,” i.e. drug trafficking, she’d played the reluctant, then grateful, participant.

“Knock off the ‘sugar.’ Stick to ‘boss.’” She frowned at him for several heartbeats, waited until his gaze met hers. “Did you just say you’ve scheduled a meeting without my prior approval?”

“It’s worth your time…boss. In fact, it’s a high compliment that you’ve been sought for this meetup.” Hank relished drawing out his point. “Just the facts, ma’am” wasn’t a concept he comprehended.

“Spit it out, Hank.”

“I’ve been directly contacted by the assistant to the man who is going to make both of us rich. No more worries about hitting the bottom line with the clients every night, or concern about running out of inventory before the end of the week. Best of all? No more Rex breathing down our necks.” His grin revealed two gold crowns, one on either side of his left incisor.

Her stomach flipped and she fought to keep her expression bland. Could this be the day she’d finally have a breakthrough in the case? If Hank was turning on Rex, it would force a confrontation with the man she wanted behind bars.

“What do you mean, about Rex?” She’d never expected Hank to speak ill of his lord and master.

“Rex’s…getting too greedy if you ask me. We’re turning product for him more than we ever have—you’ve been the best thing to happen to Frisky, let me tell you.” Hank wasn’t above blowing smoke up her skirt, in the colloquial sense. “It’s best he doesn’t find out about this meeting. He doesn’t need to know anything other than we’re doing business as usual, if you get my gist.” He waggled his brows.

Stunned that Hank would do anything behind their boss’s back, she paused. Was Rex testing her loyalty, via Hank? Was Hank sniffing out if she’d partner with him against Rex?