1 Chapter 1

1

October 2015

Packed to the rafters, the club was in full swing as throngs of twenty-somethings gilded in tandem. Together they swirled in a kaleidoscope of color and sound. The air electric as it pulsated with the booming beat of the music. Shrieks of delight from the crowd ebbed and flowed with every timed drop of the bass. Off to the side of the dance floor sat a long steel bar. People gathered in clusters and pairs, giggling and flirting as they plied back one colorful cocktail after the other. At the farthest end of the bar, tucked in the shadows, stood a striking couple. The two attempted to blend in despite the many appreciative stares they’d received since their arrival

“Quit fidgeting. You look beautiful,” Ian Abbott told his partner, Mei, with the barest hint of a smirk.

Mei paused, tugging her short dress over her thighs to flash Ian a death glare in response. “Fuck you,” she answered. “Next time, you can wear a dress.”

“Not with my legs,” he countered.

Mei favored Ian with a customary eye roll before turning to the bar to slug the rest of her drink. When finished, she slammed the glass onto the counter, flagging the bartender.

“Remind me to kill Regan later for making me wear these stupid boots!”

“The boots are as lovely as the rest of you,” Ian responded, reaching for his drink, scanning the room’s faces.

Out of habit, he caught the eye of a handsome young man in the crowd, holding it for several seconds past casual. The kid offered him a shy smile and blushed, overwhelmed by Ian’s fervent stare.

Mei noted the exchange between them and shook her head. “Business first. Twinks later.”

Blessed with dark, rugged good looks, Ian usually had little trouble attracting men and women. He shrugged and concentrated on blending in instead of getting laid. Mei was right. They had more immediate matters to attend to tonight. Like maintaining their cover so they could extract information from Morgan Dwyer, the shady criminal who owned and operated the club. Since Dwyer only made the occasional rare appearance, it was essential they not miss their chance. Intel had placed him here at seven o’clock, and he had yet to leave. They decided to wait until the crowds thinned out before making their move. In the meantime, they busied themselves sipping a few drinks and people watching.

Ian checked his watch. Almost two A.M. Time to make their move. “The two by the back entrance.”

“Too little firepower if you ask me.”

Ian agreed but added. “He keeps the heavy hitters in the back.”

“What’s the play?” Mei asked as they leaned into each other’s space.

“Dance floor. Think you can manage in those boots?”

“I think I could manage to kick your ass,” she retorted under her breath.

She reached up, tucking a lock of chin-length ebony hair behind her ear, finishing the last of her drink. Ian led her onto the dance floor before spinning her with a flourish, pulling her slender body into his arms.

“Show off,” she huffed, letting him lead. In sync, they weaved through the crowd, moving with practiced ease born from years of working together.

“Ready?”

“Always.”

Mei let Ian spin her off the dance floor and into the two guards’ path at the rear entrance. The ridiculous boots she hated helped sell her performance. She wobbled on ludicrous heels and landed in the arms of the burly fellow stationed on the right. Both he and his partner were far more intrigued than suspicious by the scantily clad partygoer.

“Hey there,” Bodyguard One exclaimed with a lascivious grin.

“Oh, excuse me,” Mei purred, blinking innocent brown eyes up at him. “Is the ladies’ room over here?” A slow, sweet laugh and she had him hooked.

“Sorry, baby, you got the wrong door.”

“Do I?”

Mei crowded in close, her smile now deadly as she pressed a pocket-sized blade under his chin. He tried to take a step backward, but Mei followed, digging in the tip to draw the tiniest bead of blood. By the time his companion figured out what was happening, Ian stepped behind him, gun shoved into his lower back.

“Don’t even think about it,” Ian told the guard as he made a feeble attempt of going for his weapon. “Get us inside now,” Ian hissed, digging the gun’s muzzle deeper for emphasis.

The guard obeyed and typed in his code on a panel by the door. Meanwhile, his partner tried out his tough guy routine.

“You and your Jap bitch are gonna die for this,” he snarled, shooting them both daggers.

Ian’s eyes narrowed, temper rising over the comment. He ushered them through the now open door. Once it shut behind them, Ian turned and grabbed the guard with the smart mouth by the back of his neck. He hurled him headfirst into the cement wall, leaving him a broken heap on the ground.