Page 22 of Colton’s Secret Identity

“If you give me a minute, I will double what you’re bringing in. It’ll take me less than a week.” Dylan threw down his words like a gauntlet.

A raw tension blanketed the small room like none she’d experienced in all the five years she’d either worked a beat, conducted patrols, interrupted assaults and burglaries, or discovered a murdered body. This was her third undercover assignment and the sense of being on the knife-edge of life or death had never been more palpable.

Rex gave a barely perceptible nod, and Bulldog opened the door. Dylan stepped inside to face Rex toe-to-toe. The barrel of Bulldog’s pistol was immediately at Dylan’s temple.

If she drew and fired now, she risked that Bulldog’s finger would pull his trigger first.

Dylan had an inch on Rex but Rex had Bulldog. And Rex had his ruthless temper that he hadn’t yet relieved. He’d been stopped mid-strike, so close to slamming her skull against the wall or desktop or both.

Was Rex going to completely lose it? Were they all dead?

Veronica reached her shooting hand to the back of her waist.

Not if I can help it.

Chapter 9

“Working for me is by invitation only.” Rex gave every appearance of being on the verge of issuing an execution order to Bulldog, but Dylan knew he had the scumbag by the short hairs. He knew Rex was a greedy trafficker who more than once had stepped out of the boundaries Slim enforced with steely precision over the entire cartel. If Rex was going to have Bulldog pull the trigger, it would have happened already.

“Bring him inside.” Rex’s back was already to him as Bulldog gripped his upper arm, hauling him inside.

“Watch it,” Dylan growled, wiping at his leather jacket as if Bulldog had left cooties.

“Have a seat.” Rex kicked a second chair at him, sliding it across the cheap carpet. He signaled Bulldog to holster his weapon. “Let me introduce Monique—but wait, you two are already acquainted, am I right?” Rex’s grin revealed a dental grill that cost more than was in Dylan’s current retirement account, diamonds glinting in the fluorescent glare.

Dylan shot a glance at Veronica, the first time he allowed himself to while Rex or Bulldog observed. She sat down, her face flushed and her spine straight. As if she was carrying a weapon in her waistband.

Damn it. Why had she risked carrying in front of Hank, or worse, Rex? Her role as Monique wasn’t one of an accomplished shooter. The only way she would have taken was the risk was—

She thinks we’re all going down. Maybe it was his short hairs that were being held and not Rex’s.

“Well?” Rex leaned forward, slammed his hand on the desk. “Answer me,” he shouted, pulse pounding at the side of his oiled, bald head.

“Sure, Moni and I know each other.” He grinned at Veronica. “Don’t we, hon?”

“Sure thing, sugar. Business with a sprinkle of pleasure is always easier to swallow.” Veronica placed extra emphasis on “swallow” and heat tried to rush to his groin at the same time his protective instincts tried to kick in. The thought of Rex, Bulldog or anyone else touching her—

Forget it.

Reminding himself that Veronica was as equipped as he to handle this, he kept his gaze steady on Rex, aware of Bulldog standing behind him, able to either knock him out with the butt of his pistol or take him out entirely with a bullet. Hank remained the zero threat he was, his eyes bouncing back and forth faster than the speed bag Dylan regularly trained with at the boxing gym.

Rex’s stillness was unreadable, his vacant gaze incongruous with the machinations Dylan was certain his mind was in the midst of. A true psychopath. And his only path to Slim.

Stay chill, man. He could handle Rex, and Hank, of course. Veronica could take out both of them, too, if she was carrying as he suspected. Bulldog was the issue. He’d get rounds off more quickly than Veronica. Dylan prayed that she’d take out Bulldog first, then Rex and Hank. He’d already be dead, but it would save her life.

“I don’t see the problem with me and Hawk having some fun. What am I missing?” Veronica played a confused nightclub manager to a T.

Rex’s single brow rose, and he leaned back. His eyes remained fixed on Dylan.

“What you’re missing is my touch, Monique. You’ll never need another man after me. We’ll save it for when Hawk here gives me what I want. It’ll be a celebration.” His sneer, the first expression he’d revealed besides his flat sinister stare, ran Dylan’s blood cold. But not as much as his reply to Veronica.

No way, no how, was Rex ever going to touch Veronica.

Not on my watch.

Veronica sat still with all of her senses on full throttle while she tried to look anything but in full battle mode. She fought to give off relaxed, devil-may-care vibes as Rex and Hawk continued their showdown. They were both fighters, each unwilling to bow down to the other.

At least it wasn’t a gunfight, not yet anyway. She’d mentally rehearsed several different scenarios to get out of this alive, and none of them offered a clear path for Dylan to survive. Not if she hoped to bring Rex in alive. If she had to, she’d take out all three crooks but it wouldn’t be before Bulldog shot Dylan. Despair tried to creep into her planning.