Chapter Six

ZAIN/MALIK POV

"Sorry about her," Mike says, turning back to me.

I unclench my fists and attempt to hide my disdain. I've known him all of three hours, and I've never despised someone more in my entire life.

"It's all good," I reply. I walk over to the bar and casually ease myself into one of the seats at the table, despite the fact that I want to run upstairs and make sure Najwa's okay. My mind is still reeling from the fact that Najwa is involved in this. She was the last person I expected to run into coming here. Watching Mike kiss her like he did, and watching her respond like she did, made me officially regret taking on this assignment. This just became a hell of a lot more complicated.

"She live with you?" I ask.

Mike hands me a beer out of the fridge and I untwist the top, then bring it to my mouth. "Yep," he says. "And I'll cut off your dick if you so much as look at her the wrong way."

I eye him, but he doesn't skip a beat. He shuts the door to the refrigerator and saunters to his seat on the other side of the bar as though the sentence never even left his mouth. That he can physically hurt her like he just did, then act like he gives a shit about her, has me floored. I want to bust the fucking beer bottle against his head, but instead I grip it harder, keeping my temper in check.

He opens his beer and raises the bottle. "To money," he says, clinking the bottle against mine.

"To money." And watching assholes get what they deserve.

Lewis walks in, interrupting with perfect timing. He looks at me and nods, then turns his attention to Mike. "Hey, man. Jon wants to know what to do about the alcohol situation. Is it BYOB tonight, or are we providing, because we don't have shit."

Mike slams his beer down on the bar and shoves his chair back, standing up. "I told that asshole to stock up yesterday." Mike storms out of the kitchen.

Lewis nudges his head toward the front door and I get up and follow him outside. Once we're alone in the middle of the front yard, he turns toward me and takes a swig of his beer, mostly for show. Lewis hates beer.

"How'd it go? You think you're in?" he asks.

I shrug. "I guess. He's desperate for someone who can speak Spanish. I told him I was good, but not fluent."

Lewis gapes at me. "Just like that? No questions asked?" He shakes his head in disbelief. "God, he's such a dumbass. Why do the new ones think they're so untouchable? Fucking pretentious prick."

"Yep," I say in whole-hearted agreement.

"I warned you about this job, Malik. It'll fuck with your head having to live like this. You sure you want in on this one?"

There's no way I can back out now, knowing how close Lewis and the others are to nailing him. "You just called me Malik."

"Shit." Lewis kicks at the ground with his shoe and looks back up at me. "Sorry, man. We still on to meet tomorrow? Young wants a full report now that you're in."

"Some of us have class tomorrow," I say, rubbing it in yet again that I got the shitty end of the assignment. "I'll be out by noon, though."

Lewis nods and turns back toward the house. "You invite that hot piece of ass from your Spanish class to the party?"

"Nope. This isn't her style." Not to mention the fact that she doesn't need an invite. She's smack dab in the middle of this shit.

He nods, knowing inviting someone into this lifestyle is something I would never do. Lewis can take on and absorb his role like nothing I've ever seen. He's had long-term relationships while undercover, even went so far as to propose once, just to keep up appearances. Of course, once the job's over, he has no problem disappearing. There's still a huge part of me that knows every person I meet while I'm Zain, is still that...a person. I don't want to mislead anyone unnecessarily, so I make it a point to be on guard and never let these things go too deep.

He closes the door behind him and I stand alone in the front yard, staring at the house that has just become my assignment for at least the next two months. Undercover work wasn't really what I joined the force for, but it's what I'm good at. Unfortunately, I've got a really bad feeling about this one...and I've only been here a day.

I spend the next couple of hours being escorted in and out of rooms by Mike, shaking hands with more people than I can count. At first I try to keep mental notes of everyone I meet and the way they interact with Mike, but by the fourth beer that is shoved into my hands, I stop trying. There'll be plenty of time to get to know everyone; I don't need to be too focused right now. I'm still so new to this crowd, I don't want to give anyone reason for suspicion.

I finally break away long enough to go look for a bathroom. When I find one, the guy I now know as Jon, and two girls who can't be older than nineteen, occupy it. I close the door faster than I opened it, then head upstairs hoping to find one that isn't being used as a brothel.

I remain in the bathroom for a good ten minutes longer than I need to. I pour my beer into the sink and fill the bottle with tap water, having gone well past my personal quota for the night. I need to spend the next few weeks completely sober.

I stare at myself in the mirror, hoping I can pull this off. I'm not from this area, so I'm not worried about being recognized. What I'm worried about is the fact that I'm not like Lewis. I can't just turn it on and off like he does. The things I see here are the things I see when I close my eyes at night. And based on what I saw between Najwa and Mike today, I won't be getting much sleep.

I run a washcloth under the water and wet my face, willing myself to sober up before I exit the bathroom. I toss the washcloth into the hamper of clothes. I stare at the hamper, full to the brim of dirty laundry, and wonder if Najwa is the only girl who lives here. I'm assuming she's probably the one who gets stuck with all the laundry. Not to mention the rest of the house.

When Mike and I walked in on her cleaning the kitchen this afternoon, he stopped in the doorway and watched her clean for a moment. I stood over his shoulder, taken aback by the fact that it was the same girl from class this morning...but more so by just how beautiful she was, swaying to the music. The lyrics to the iconic Rick Springfield song, "Jessie's Girl," were running through my mind as I stood behind Mike, watching him watch her. I wanted to be the one watching her like that.

Like she was mine.

I inhale deeply and open the bathroom door. My eyes are pulled to the vision standing in the doorway across the hall. She spins around when she hears the bathroom door open, and her slinky dress spins with her. When she comes to a standstill, I can't pull my eyes away from the dress. It hugs her in all the right places, the spaghetti straps holding up a barely-there top that squeezes her breasts together, leaving no room for any type of bra. It pisses me off that I'm mentally thanking Mike for telling her to put on this dress.

Breathe, Malik. Breathe.

I finally bring my eyes to meet hers, and the look on her face doesn't match the sexy, confidant attire she's sporting. It looks like she's been crying.

"You okay?" I ask, taking a step toward her. She glances at the stairwell with a look of fear in her eyes, then back up at me. She nods and starts to head toward the stairs, so I reach out and grab her hand, pulling her back. "Najwa, wait."

She faces me. The girl I'm looking at right now is not the girl I met in class today. This girl is fragile. Scared. Broken.

She takes a step toward me, folding her arms across her chest. She stares down at the floor between us, tugging on her lip with her teeth. "Why are you here, Zain?"

I don't know how to answer her. I don't want to lie, but I also can't tell her the truth. I'm pretty sure it would be frowned upon if I told the girlfriend of the guy I'm trying to bust the real reason why I'm here.

"I was invited," I say.

She darts her head up. "You know what I mean. Why are you even involved in all of this?"

"You're dating the very reason why I'm here," I say, referring to our mutual involvement with Mike. "It's just a job."

She rolls her eyes as though she's heard that excuse before. Probably from Mike. But the difference between my excuse and Mike's, is that mine is the truth. She just doesn't know exactly how much of a job it really is.

I sigh and try to ease some of the tension between us. "Najwa, I think it's safe to say we both left a few important facts out of our class assignment today."

She releases a pained laugh. "Yeah. He should have assigned us more than three. I think five would have covered it."

"Yep," I say. "Five facts probably would have been enough to clue me in to the fact that you have a boyfriend."

She glances up at me, her chin tucked in. "I'm sorry," she says quietly. "For what?"

She drops her shoulders and lowers her voice even more. "For the way I acted in class today. For flirting with you. I shouldn't have said some of the things I said. I swear I'm not that kind of girl. I would have never..."

"Najwa," I interrupt, hooking my finger under her chin. I stare down at her, knowing full well I need to drop my hand and back the fuck away from her. "I don't think that about you at all. It was harmless fun, that's it."

The word harmless looms in the air like a dark, ominous cloud. We both know that Mike is anything but harmless. Talking to her in class, standing with her in this hallway...it's the harmless moments like these that, if they occur enough, will end up being a hell of a lot more than just harmless. Mike's threat from earlier repeats in my mind. Everything about this girl is off limits. Mike has made that clear...my career makes that clear. Why can't I see it that clearly?

I begin to drop my hand when a voice from behind us causes us both to jump.

"You're missing the party, man."

I spin around and Lewis is at the top of the stairwell, eyeing me like he's about to beat my ass. He has every right to, considering the mess I almost just got myself in.

"Yeah." I take a deep breath and turn back around to face her. "We'll talk in class," I whisper. She nods and lets out a breath, relieved that the voice at the top of the stairs belonged to Lewis and not Mike. She's not the only one relieved by that.

She turns around and heads back into her room, rather than downstairs.

I can see now, based on her environment, why she doesn't get any sleep.

As soon as the door closes behind her, I spin around and come face-to- face with Lewis. His nostrils are flaring, a dead giveaway that he's about to hit me. He shoves me against the wall and wedges his arm between my chest and throat.

"Don't fuck this up," he seethes. He slaps his palm against the side of my head. "Play smart."