Midnight Alias: A Killer Instincts Novel (12 page)

“It’s not right,” he mumbled. “I don’t want to pay to see you. I don’t like knowing that it’s the only reason you’re even in here with me.”

She gulped. When she realized she’d gone still, noticed that the music continued to pound from the speakers, she shimmied closer and straddled him, jutting her breasts as she sank onto that bulge in his jeans.

“Can we please just stop talking?” she said, her throat tight. But she knew what he meant. This
wasn’t
right. He was the first man she’d been attracted to in who knew how long. The only man who’d ever made her feel all pathetically tingly when he smiled at her.

“No,” he choked out. “We can’t. I came here to talk.”

She brought her breasts toward his face, rolling her hips. Maybe if she ignored him, just did her thing until the music ended, he would let it go. Stop pushing for . . . for whatever it was he wanted from her. A date. Coffee. Friendship. It wasn’t in the cards, no matter how hard he pursued her.

Averting her eyes, she trailed a finger along the curve of his jaw, then leaned forward and blew seductively on his ear. He flinched as if she’d shot him. The erection pressing against her core seemed to thicken.

“Goddamn it,” he growled. “Stop distracting me.”

She stared at his hands, which were palm-down on the couch on either side of his thighs. He lifted them slightly, as if he wanted to touch her, but then he flattened them and groaned. “I came here to help you, Olivia.”

Her gaze darted to the camera aimed at them.

“No sound,” he said quietly. “I checked.”

Checked? How?

As his expression turned fierce, it suddenly occurred to her that she had no idea who this man even was. She didn’t know what he did for a living, why he’d moved to New York. She knew nothing except that her heart skipped a beat at the mere sound of his smoky voice.

“We don’t have much time, so I need you to listen to me, and listen carefully.” When she went motionless, he groaned again. “No, keep doing . . . what you’re doing. Angelo’s watching, isn’t he?”

Olivia knew her eyes had gone as wide as saucers, but she didn’t disregard his order. She kept up with the grinding, all the while wondering what the hell was going on. His easygoing charm had transformed into urgency, his face burning with intensity.

“I lied to you,” Luke admitted. “I wasn’t here the other night for a lap dance. Frankly, if it was up to me, we’d be doing this in the privacy of a bedroom, no cash involved, just two people who seriously want to turn each other on.”

Olivia’s lips parted in a startled O.

“We’ve been watching Angelo. My team and I.”

Now her jaw fell open. She quickly slammed it shut, hyperaware of the camera pointed at her.

“We’ve been watching you too, and I think I know what’s going on with you, Olivia. The attack in the alley—something happened that night, didn’t it?”

Her heart hammered against her ribs. “Why . . . how . . .”

“Angelo’s not your boyfriend, is he?”

“I . . . I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Whatever he has on you, I can help you,” Luke said in an impassioned voice. “I lied to you about who I am and why I’m here, but I’m not lying about this. If you’re in trouble, we can help. But we need your help too. We need you to—”

The music died.

As the bouncer’s voice blasted out of the intercom, ordering her to take a bow, panic constricted Olivia’s chest. She was too stunned to move, uncertain as to whether she’d imagined everything Luke had said or if this was some sort of trick, just another way Vince was toying with her or testing her loyalty.

“Fuck.” Luke’s tone became more insistent as he rattled off a series of numbers. “That’s my cell number. Memorize it. Quick, Olivia.” He recited the numbers again, twice. “Say it back.”

She stared at him, dumbfounded. Then she stumbled off his lap, knowing that one of the bouncers would come storming in if she didn’t.

“You can trust me,” Luke said softly. “I’m one of the good guys, darlin’. If you need help—”

“I don’t need help,” she sputtered.

Resignation filled his brown eyes. “I know you’re scared of him. I don’t blame you. He’s dangerous, and you
should
be scared of him. But I promise you, I can help you.”

She took a panicked step to the door, but his voice stopped her.

“Did you memorize that number, Olivia?”

Without turning around, she whispered the seven digits.

“Good. Then call me when you’re ready. Anytime, darlin’.”

The endearment had just exited his mouth when the door flung open and a scowling bouncer named Bobby appeared.

“This gentleman giving you a hard time, Liv?” Bobby asked gently.

She gave a wild shake of the head. “What? No. No, he’s not. I just feel a little under the weather.” Shock continued to spiral through her body, making her muscles go limp, which only gave credence to her sudden bout of illness.

Looking concerned, Bobby stepped forward and took her arm to steady her. “Come on, let’s get you to the dressing room. You do look a bit pale.”

Olivia refused to look over her shoulder as the bouncer half carried her out of the room, but she could feel Luke’s gaze burning into her back. Later. She would absorb everything he’d told her later. Right now, she had to pretend everything was fine, a game plan that only increased in importance when she and Bobby entered the dressing room to find Vince pacing the floor. He must have dismissed the other girls again—he was alone in the room.

His eyes snapped in her direction when she walked in. “Leave us,” he said to Bobby.

As the big man disappeared, Olivia sank into the nearest chair and gathered her composure.

Vince loomed over her, his features livid. “What the hell happened? Bobby said a customer was upsetting you.”

She lifted her head, finding the courage to meet his eyes. “That wasn’t it. I got light-headed during the dance, that’s all.”

Doubt clouded his perfectly sculpted face. “Light-headed.”

“Yeah.” She made a show of rubbing her temples. “I suddenly felt really sick. I almost collapsed on that poor customer. I think I scared him.”

Vince slid down to his knees in front of her. “Screw the customer. I’m more worried about you.”

The concern in his voice might’ve been sweet if she hadn’t known exactly who this man was. “I’m fine,” she said in a tired voice. “I think I’m just coming down with something.” Inspiration streaked through her. “I don’t know if I’ll be up for anything too action-packed tomorrow night.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll take it nice and easy, babe. I know we’ve got you scheduled for the afternoon shift, but fuck it. Spend the day at home tomorrow, and you’ll feel good as new by the time evening rolls around.”

Well, it had been worth a try. Looked like she’d have to find another way to keep from sleeping with him. On their anniversary.

Vince leaned closer, the stench of his strong cologne making her stomach roil. “I was worried when Bobby called me down.”

“I’m fine,” she insisted.

“Good.”

And then his mouth touched hers and she was
so
not fine. It was the briefest of kisses, just the brush of his lips, but it brought bile to her mouth.

Pulling back, she massaged her temples again. “Yeah, it’s probably a good idea that I don’t come in tomorrow. I’m sure Cora would be willing to—” She halted, the memory of Cora’s breakdown flooding her head. “She was here earlier and she totally freaked out on me. She said—”

“I know all about it, babe.” Vince’s smile was a tad condescending, and he ruffled her hair as if she were a five-year-old. “Cora and I straightened everything out.”

Olivia studied his face. “You did?”

“Yeah, it’s all good. She was just pissed off that Candy was taking all her shifts.” Vince shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. We reached an agreement.”

“Oh. That’s good.”
If it was true
. But she could tell by the vague lilt in his voice that he’d lied to her. She’d known Cora since freshman year and she knew the other woman wouldn’t have freaked out over losing a few shifts. Something else had happened. Something bad.

He’s dangerous
.

Luke’s words buzzed through her head. Luke. Was that even his name?

Standing up, she headed for the bank of lockers. “I need to get home.”

She heard him approach her from behind. Cringed when his arms wrapped around her. “That’s a good idea. Make a cup of tea, get in bed, and get some rest, my love.”

My love
. It was the first time he’d ever called her that.

“And you’ll feel all better tomorrow.” His breath fanned over her neck, making her skin crawl. “Just in time to celebrate.”

* * *

This felt like a date.

It wasn’t, though. Of course it wasn’t. And yet as Isabel stretched her sore legs on the carpet and watched Trevor devour the leftover Chinese food he’d pillaged from her fridge, she couldn’t help but feel that it was. A date, that is.

But it wasn’t.

“You should be team leader on this one,” Trevor mumbled between mouthfuls.

She raised a brow. “Is that a job offer?”

“No. Well, kind of.” He chewed slowly, then reached for the can of Bud Light on the table and popped the tab.

He swallowed a sip of the beer, drawing her gaze to his strong, corded throat. And no, she hadn’t ducked into that corner store to buy a six-pack because she’d known he was stopping by after her shift at the Diamond. She’d had a legitimate thirst for beer. At three in the morning.

God, she was such a loser. A thirty-two-year-old loser who had no business enjoying this man’s company. She couldn’t even count the reasons why getting involved with Trevor would be a bad idea.

“What do I know about the Mafia?” he continued. “I’m a soldier, not an investigator. Put a gun in my hand and tell me what to shoot? No problem. But ask me to figure out where the Mob is stashing an undercover agent? I don’t even fucking know where to begin.”

She sighed. “I’d like to say you’ve come to the right place and claim to be some kind of expert on the subject, but truth is, I didn’t get too far when I worked the organized-crime unit.”

His brown eyes sharpened. “You went undercover in De Luca’s outfit twice.”

“And came up with nothing. Twice. De Luca tolerated me because of my father, but he sure as hell didn’t trust me. He was trying to marry me off to his oldest son and the fact that I wasn’t interested didn’t help in the trust department.”

“You must have uncovered something. How they run their operation, where they conduct their interrogations.”

“Nothing,” she reiterated. “I have no clue where they’d be holding Dane.”

“What about your father?” Trevor asked. “You said he’s in prison, but maybe he can—”

“No
.
”

He instantly backed off, probably because the tone of her voice brooked no argument. Her flat-out refusal lingered in the air. She drew a calming breath, hoping to ease the sudden pounding of her heart.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“It’s okay.”

“I won’t involve my father. I can’t. He might be locked up in a federal penitentiary, but don’t think that means he’s safe. If anyone in the organization so much as suspected him of being a rat . . .” She trailed off. Pulse kicked up another notch.

“I get it.” Trevor’s voice was soft, husky. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have even suggested it.”

Silence fell over the living room. Seemed like there was always some kind of baggage cluttering up the space between them. But hell, at least Trevor was honest about his crap. She, on the other hand, played everything so cool. Just the daughter of a former mobster. No biggie. Sure, she’d once told the bureau, she’d
love
to try to bring down the people who’d sold her dad up the river.
Love
to punish those who’d had her brother murdered.

So strong, wasn’t she? Strong, not-a-care-in-the-world Isabel Roma. And that was the crux of the matter, the reason why getting close to anyone was a bad idea.

Because she could put up that tough and happy-go-lucky front for only so long before the exhaustion set in.

“Hey. Isabel. What’s going on?”

She inhaled. Collected all the jagged little pieces of her composure, putting the mask back together. “Nothing,” she said with a careless wave of the hand.

Trevor didn’t look convinced. A deep crease cut into his proud forehead, and those whiskey brown eyes flickered with uneasiness. She got the feeling he could see right through her, and she didn’t like it, not one damn bit.

She briskly changed the subject. “Olivia will help. I’m sure of it.”

“Olivia left the club hours ago and still hasn’t used the number Luke gave her.”

“She’s scared. But desperate. The desperation will work in our favor.” Isabel stood up and began collecting the empty food containers. “She’s a smart one too. If she comes on board, she’ll get us the information we need. And while she does, I’ll be at the club, watching over her and—”

His hand covered hers.

She nearly dropped the takeout boxes. Trevor swiftly freed them from her grip, tossed the containers back on the coffee table, and encircled her clenched fists with his hands, his long fingers dragging over her knuckles.

“I’m sorry I mentioned using your father for information,” he said hoarsely. “It was a stupid idea.”

“I told you, it’s no big—”

“Deal?” he finished. His lips twisted wryly. “Nothing’s a big deal for you, is it, Isabel?”

She was acutely aware of his touch, the warmth of his fingers. The scent of him infused her senses, some spicy masculine aftershave that tickled her nostrils.

Yep, this silly attraction was getting way out of hand.

She broke the physical contact and tackled the garbage again. “I feel bad kicking you out, but it’s almost four and I’m dead on my feet.” She flew past him, heading for the steps that led from the sunken living room up to the kitchen. “Can you let me know when Olivia contacts Luke?”

He didn’t answer, so she paused on the top step and risked a glance in his direction. The look in his eyes stole the breath right out of her lungs. Loaded with heat, soft with tenderness.