Page 21 of Colton’s Secret Identity

Did Rex realize he’d just confirmed that Hank reported her every move to him? And that it wasn’t her meetings at Pixie Hair Salon he was concerned about—she’d fooled Hank with those—but that this was all about her meeting with Hawk Masters. Somehow, Rex knew. But she doubted he knew about their deal, not fully. Or he’d have shot her on sight.

She cocked her head, offered a small smile. “Oh? I thought my downtime was mine. A girl has needs, you know.”

Too late, she realized the threat he interpreted her words to be. He thought she was criticizing his masculinity, that Rex hadn’t been the one to meet her “needs.”

Rex stood and placed his fists atop the desk, his coffee breath hot against her face.

“Stand up when I’m addressing you.”

She slowly stood, weighing each option she had. If he assaulted her, would it be lethal? Or a warning? Monique wouldn’t know how to counter a punch or hit. Veronica stood defenseless as she and Rex faced off.

Bam bam bam. She jumped at the unexpected pounds on the door, heard Bulldog’s safety click, saw him move aside, ready to shoot at the offender.

Bam bam bam. Harder, louder.

“Open up!” Deep, insistent. Dylan. Bulldog raised his weapon, aimed at the door, on whose other side stood her one hope to get out of this.

Frisky’s office door inched open, revealing the huge head of Rex’s henchman. Dylan recognized the nose that had been fractured and healed without surgical intervention, from the Bureau’s dossier on Rex and his players. Bulldog, the notorious sidekick to Rex, was known for minimal intelligence and maximum violence. Top requirements for any employee of the drug ring.

“I’m here to see Rex,” he snarled with as much ferocity as he could, as Hawk.

“So?” Bulldog grunted, his sunken eyes unreadable. Dylan was able to see through the sliver of opening above Bulldog’s head. What he saw sent hot rage through his center.

Veronica was eye to eye with a man he knew had to be Rex. As he watched, Rex’s shoulder lifted—

“I want to see Rex now!” he bellowed, threw his entire weight against the door.

There was no splintering of wood, only the dull thud of his shoulder hitting the fortress that was Bulldog, the cheap door his shield.

“Who is it?” Rex’s words had Bulldog pointing his weapon at Dylan through the crack. Relief that he’d distracted Rex from striking Veronica—he instinctively knew she’d have to take it, if she was going to remain undercover—was short-lived as he took a step aside, out of Bulldog’s immediate line of sight. Not that it mattered much. There was no outrunning the fire from a .357 revolver.

“Hawk Masters. We need to talk, Rex.”

Dylan.

No, not Dylan. Hawk.

While the interruption had stopped Rex from backhanding her, she had to fight to relax her body, to let the tension out of her core. For this moment, she had a reprieve from an ugly facial injury, or worse.

Rex turned from her and strode to the door.

“Wait, boss.” Bulldog held up a hand behind his back, his other arm invisible as it undoubtedly kept his weapon aimed at Dylan.

She didn’t have time to figure out why Dylan was here in the middle of the week, right before opening. It wasn’t usual operating procedure for a seasoned drug dealer. They left the selling to their minions—she and Hank—and steered clear of the first place law enforcement would come investigating. His appearance gave her time to regroup, plan the next move against Rex.

Would Rex think it odd that Hawk was here? Did the drug trafficker already know that both she and Hawk were LEO?

Hank stood to the side, his eyes wide as he took in the exchange at the door. He paid zero attention to her, so without hesitation Veronica stooped down and reached under the desk, coughing as she took her weapon off the underside of the center drawer, and slipped it into her skirt’s back waist. She’d worry about hiding it if and when Rex walked behind her, the odds of which were nil.

Standing back up, she coughed again, motioned to Hank. Finally he spared her a glance. “What did you tell him?” she whispered and pointed at Rex’s back while giving Hank her meanest look.

Hank stepped closer to the desk, as if he wanted her protection from Rex.

Fat chance.

“It wasn’t me, boss, I swear,” he sputtered, his voice loud enough to carry. “Why would I risk our—”

“Shut up!” She followed her demand with a slicing motion across her throat. Maybe Hank was telling the truth. He was behaving like his usual big-mouth self, almost spilling the beans in front of Rex. She strained to hear what was happening at the cracked open door, where Rex stood with his back to her.