Midnight Alias

by Elle Kennedy

  She gave a quick nod. “I recognized him from the club. He would come in a few times a week, but he never caused any problems or raised any red flags.”

  From his spot by the door, D spoke up in a bored voice. “What happened in the alley?”

  Olivia’s voice wavered. “He had a knife, and he . . . tried to rape me. I was struggling, fighting back, but that only made him angrier, so eventually I quit fighting and pretended to surrender. That made him happy.” Her lips tightened. “He said as a reward for my submission, he’d be gentle.”

  Luke resisted the urge to slam his fist through the wall.

  “So I waited for him to”—she looked uncomfortable—“unzip his pants, and while he was, um, you know, pulling it out, I made a grab for the knife. I only managed to nick him before he batted the knife out of my hand, and that just infuriated him even more. He . . . beat me. Pretty fucking badly. I don’t know how I was able to stay conscious, but I did, and while he was pounding at me with his fists, I got hold of the knife again.” Now her voice steadied, growing hard. “I stabbed him. In the throat.”

  Silence crashed over the room.

  Well, damn. Pride welled up in Luke’s chest, along with a sick sense of satisfaction that the man who’d tried to hurt Olivia had paid for it. Dearly.

  As he glanced at the others, he noticed that Trevor and Sullivan looked as gratified as he felt and were nodding their approval. Hell, even D looked impressed.

  “What happened afterward?” Luke asked.

  She hesitated, but when he gave her hand a gentle squeeze, her posture relaxed, her mouth opened, and a whole lot of details came spilling out.

  She told them about how Angelo and his guards had come to her rescue, how they’d dumped the body of the man she’d killed, took care of the cops while she was in the hospital. By the time she finished explaining how she’d ended up in Angelo’s clutches, Luke was ready to clock something. Sully and Trevor didn’t look pleased either, donning matching scowls when Olivia described waking up at St. Francis two days after the attack to find Angelo at her bedside. Telling her he owned her now.

  Owned her. Like she was a piece of prime real estate, or another one of his expensive suits. Classic case of abuse, right down to the characteristics she described. Angelo’s control, his sick sense of entitlement, the superiority complex and possessiveness.

  “Did he ever hit you?” Sullivan asked carefully.

  She started to shake her head, but then a resigned light entered her eyes. “Once when I insisted I could pay my own tuition, and another time because I made him look bad in front of a customer by refusing to do a private dance.”

  Outrage bubbled in Luke’s gut, congealing into hard knots. The thought of Vince Angelo laying a hand on this woman made him want to grab that Glock from the coffee table and empty a clip into Angelo’s chest. Violence against women had always made him see red, ever since his sister, Ellen, had wound up in an abusive relationship that lasted for years. But Ellen had gotten out of that hellhole with the help of her family. Olivia was still living in hers.

  “Why didn’t you skip town?”

  D’s cold inquiry hung in the air, bringing another flicker of sorrow to Olivia’s eyes.

  “My mom was sick,” she said softly. “I couldn’t leave her, and she was in no condition to be uprooted. Money is an issue too. I can barely afford two train tickets, let alone a new apartment, Mom’s medication . . .” She swallowed hard. “I thought we’d have a better chance at starting fresh if I got my degree. That way I could land a higher-paying job. And I’ve been saving money the past six months . . .” She trailed off.

  Luke didn’t like the defeated look on her face. Leaning closer, he searched her eyes and asked, “Do you want this son of a bitch out of your life?”

  She nodded.

  “Then he’ll be out of your life. We’ll make sure of it.” Probably presumptuous, throwing the we in there, but he’d seen Trevor’s and Sully’s expressions during Olivia’s story, and knew they’d be on board. As for D, well—

  “And you’ll return the favor,” came D’s raspy voice, which only confirmed Luke’s thoughts. D wouldn’t do a damn thing without getting something back from Olivia.

  She looked over at D. “What does that mean?”

  Trevor quickly took control of the conversation before D could respond with some tactless comment. “Here’s the thing, Olivia,” he said gently. “We need your help too.”

  She shifted warily. “To do what?”

  “We were hired to find someone. An undercover agent who went missing two months ago. Sully, grab me that pic of Dane.”

  Sullivan headed for the kitchen counter and rummaged around in the file folder sitting on it. He extracted a photograph, then walked over to hand Olivia the photo.

  Luke instantly saw the recognition dawn in her eyes. “You know him?” he said sharply.

  “That’s Kyle. Kyle . . . I can’t remember his last name, it started with a B, I think.” She stared at Carter Dane’s average features and short black hair. “He came to the club a lot, usually hung out in Vince’s office or the VIP lounge. Vince said Kyle was a business associate.”

  “He’s DEA,” Trevor revealed. “When was the last time you saw him?”

  She mulled it over. “I guess . . . it’s been a while actually. He could have showed up on my days off or when I was in the dressing room, but it’s definitely been a couple of months since I saw him.” Her gaze landed on the photo again, and her sensual mouth twisted in a frown. “You want me to help you find him.”

  “Yes,” Luke said simply.

  The frown deepened, almost a scowl now. Her shoulders stiffened, then sagged. “Of course you do. Nothing comes free, does it?”

  She spoke in a flat tone, as if she truly believed that people weren’t capable of helping each other out of the goodness of their hearts. He supposed he didn’t blame her. Vince Angelo hadn’t helped her out of kindness—he’d done it so she’d be indebted to him. And those doctors who’d treated her mother’s cancer, maybe they’d been genuinely happy to do it, but at the end of those treatments there’d still been a price tag.

  Everything about Olivia’s body language communicated weariness, from the way she hung her head as if her neck could no longer support it to the way she unclasped her hands and let them fall to her sides. But then she surprised him. Rather than tell them to go to hell, she lifted her head and focused on Trevor. “What do I have to do?”

  Luke answered for the team leader. “Dig. Use your connection to Angelo.”

  “Get into his office and snoop around,” Trevor added. “See if you can find anything relating to Carter Dane—a location, a lead, anything that might help us find him.”

  “There are cameras in Vince’s office,” Olivia pointed out.

  “If you can get in, they’ll be taken care of,” Luke answered.

  Her eyebrows lifted in challenge. “If it’s so easy, why don’t you go in yourself?”

  “Because if it all goes south, it’ll be hard to explain away my presence. Or it could turn into a gunfight or something equally unproductive. The last thing we want to do is alert Angelo that he’s being watched. We’ll come up with a reasonable explanation that you can use if you’re ever caught upstairs.”

  When she nodded in resignation, he reached for her hand, and found her fingers cold and shaky. “We won’t risk putting a wire on you, but we’ll get you a secure phone,” he assured her. “You’ll stay in contact with us, and anytime you’re in the club, we’ll be right outside, ready to storm the place if you say the word.”

  He moved his thumb in a soothing motion around the center of her palm. “You won’t be alone, darlin’. And if you do this, you’ll be helping us put Angelo out of commission once and for all. He’ll never hurt you or any of the other girls again.”

  That got her attention. The steel that entered her gorgeous green eyes brought another spark of pride. He remembered her saying how she wasn’t half as strong as her
mother, but clearly that was bullshit. Olivia Taylor might not be battling cancer, but she’d been living in her own personal hell for a long time now, suffering right along with her mom. Even now, with that son of a bitch Angelo and his obsession to contend with, she was still holding her ground, refusing to be knocked down.

  Damned if that wasn’t sexy.

  “When’s your next shift?” Trevor asked.

  “Tomorrow night. Oh, and Vince won’t be there. He meets his investors every Fri—” She stopped, bitterness washing over her face. “Well, the investors thing is probably a lie. I don’t know who he meets, but I do know he won’t be there tomorrow.”

  “Good. That’s good.” Trevor checked his watch. “We need to wrap this up and get you back to the church before Angelo’s goon gets suspicious.”

  “How will I get in touch with you?”

  When Luke noticed she was looking at him and not Trev, warmth spread through his body. “We’ll work it out, find a way to get you that phone. Don’t worry, we’ll come up with some kind of system. But Trevor’s right, you’ve gotta go back now.”

  “Can I use your restroom before we go?”

  “Of course.”

  As Olivia stood up, D took several menacing steps toward her. Luke shot to his feet, but the other man didn’t get too close, halting when he and Olivia were about six feet apart.

  “Have you fucked him?” D asked with his typical callousness.

  She faltered. “Wh-what?”

  Now the guy just sounded annoyed. “Have you fucked Angelo?”

  “No.”

  Although D’s totally inappropriate line of questioning ticked him off, Luke couldn’t help letting out a breath of relief.

  “Will you do it if it’s the only way to get information?”

  Luke’s head snapped in D’s direction. “For Christ’s sake, man—”

  “No,” Olivia cut in, her tone as sharp as a blade. “I won’t.”

  D shook his head. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that, then. Otherwise you’ll be pretty fucking useless to us.”

  Olivia’s green eyes burned. “Where. Is. The. Restroom.”

  Sullivan spoke up. “Down the hall, first door on the left.”

  Without a word, she spun around and disappeared into the corridor.

  Setting his jaw, Luke turned to D and said, “You’re a real asshole, you know that?”

  The other man shrugged. “Just wanted to know how far our new operative will go to complete her mission.”

  Surprisingly, Sullivan was first to respond. “You didn’t have to be such a jerk to her, mate. She’s been through a lot.”

  “And this isn’t her mission,” Luke reminded him. “In fact, I feel like a total shit telling her we’ll only help her if she helps us. If it were up to me—”

  “You’d be playing hero and saving our little damsel,” D finished, equally cold.

  Luke advanced on D, going nose to nose with the guy. D stared him down. The angry throb of his pulse made it look like the red and black snake circling his neck was undulating, pulsating.

  “What the fuck is with you?” Luke demanded. “I know you’re a surly son of a bitch, but lately you’ve been a straight-up pain in the ass.”

  “Give it a rest.” Trevor came out of nowhere and shoved himself between the two men. Planting a hand on D’s chest, he gave their resident asshole a firm push and said, “Go take a walk.”

  D raised his dark brows. “You giving me a time-out, sir?”

  “You bet your ass I am. Now go.”

  A second. Two. And then D marched out of the apartment without a backward glance.

  “Shit,” Trevor said softly.

  “Shit is right,” Sullivan concurred.

  “I’ll talk to Morgan about it.”

  Luke shook his head, half bewildered, half pissed the fuck off. He had no clue what was up D’s ass, but right now he didn’t care. They had more important things to worry about—and with that thought, he realized Olivia had been in the bathroom for way too long. Sighing, he stepped toward the corridor and said, “I’m going to check on her.”

  When he reached the door, he heard the sound of running water. He figured she was washing her hands, but the water kept flowing. And flowing. Frowning, he rapped his knuckles against the door. “Olivia? It’s me. Open up.”

  After a long delay, the door creaked open. He took one look at her face and pushed his way into the washroom, firmly closing the door behind him. Olivia’s cheeks were stained with tears, which she swiped at with the sleeve of her red sweatshirt as if trying to destroy the evidence.

  “Look,” he said brusquely, “ignore D, okay? He’s not exactly Mr. Social, and everything he said was out of line.”

  When he reached out for her, she backed up until her hip bumped into the porcelain sink. “This isn’t about your friend,” she choked out. “I’m just . . . the sex thing . . . God, I’m scared I might actually have to do it.”

  Luke moved forward and planted both hands on her slender hips before she could wiggle away. “Nobody is asking you to sleep with that bastard.”

  Her expression exhibited a whole lot of misery. “Vince is. And he’s not asking. He’s expecting.” An incredulous laugh popped out of her mouth. “He wanted to do it tonight. He says it’s our anniversary. But Cora screwed everything up for him by dying. You should have seen how annoyed he looked that our special evening was ruined.”

  He slid one hand up to her face and touched her cheek, rubbing his thumb over her damp skin. “How have you managed to avoid it so far? The sex thing, I mean.”

  Another laugh, this one bordering on hysterical. “I told him I was a virgin and that I was saving myself for the man I married.”

  Luke couldn’t help but feel proud. “Smart.”

  “Not smart enough.” Her gaze darkened. “He’s getting impatient, and the marriage thing doesn’t seem to matter anymore. He was ready to screw me tonight, married or not.” When Luke stroked her cheek again, she leaned into his touch. “I don’t know how much longer I can hold him off. I don’t know how much more I can take.”

  Since she wasn’t balking at the physical contact, he took a chance and pulled her into his arms. She stiffened, then sank into the embrace. The top of her head reached his chin, which was a nice feeling. At six-two, he usually towered over women, but Olivia was tall herself. They fit well together, and he liked the feel of her warm, willowy body against his.

  Lecherous bastard that he was, he found himself getting hard, an erection thickening and straining against his zipper. He tried shifting away, but Olivia must have picked up on his body’s transformation because she suddenly gazed up at him, her lips parted in surprise.

  “Sorry,” he said gruffly. “Close quarters, beautiful woman pressed against me. My body is confused.”

  A shadow of a smile lifted the corner of her mouth. “I appreciate the honesty.”

  “Yeah? ’Cause it usually gets me into trouble.”

  She tilted her head to meet his eyes. “Thank you, by the way.”

  “For what?”

  “I was pretty much falling apart earlier. Finding Cora, realizing Vince did that to her . . . I was a mess. And then I called you, and I felt . . . better. Safer.”

  She swept her tongue over her lower lip, probably just to moisten her dry mouth, but God help him, he grew even more aroused. His hands, of their own volition, caressed the small of her back.

  Her breath hitched. “Luke . . .” There was a chord of uncertainty in her voice.

  His hands froze. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

  “No, it’s okay, I—”

  “I really want to kiss you right now.”

  She blinked. “What?”

  He backpedaled as fast as he could. “Sorry, it just came out. Sometimes I forget there’s this brain-to-mouth filter that—”

  Her mouth slammed into his.

  Holy fuck.

  She was kissing him, full-on mouth-to-mouth, her tongue sl
iding through his surprised lips and robbing him of breath. Despite the shock reeling through him, his male instincts snapped into action—hands slid down to cup her bottom, tongue thrust out to tangle with hers. The kiss was deep and forceful, all sex and desperation without an ounce of tenderness. Olivia’s hands clawed at the front of his shirt, bunching up the material as she stood on her tiptoes and molded her lips to his.

  It ended as quickly as it had begun. He was drowning in the sweet taste of her one second, watching her back away from him the next. Her cheeks were flushed, her chest heaving as she took a breath, and when their eyes met, she looked startled. And aroused.

  “I didn’t mean to do that,” she murmured.

  He had to grin. “I’m not complaining.”

  An expression he couldn’t decipher flitted across her face. It might have been disappointment, but that didn’t make sense considering she was the one who broke that ridiculously hot kiss.

  “We should go,” she said, taking a step to the door. “I’ve already been gone long enough.”

  * * *

  Trevor watched as Olivia darted toward the back door of St. Mary’s, her red sweatshirt and dark hair disappearing through the doorway. She hadn’t said much during the drive over, probably because she’d been expecting Luke to be with her, and not some man she’d just met. And yeah, he probably should’ve let Luke play chauffeur—the guy hadn’t been thrilled to be sidelined—but Trevor couldn’t pass up this opportunity. Call him a loser, but he wanted to see Isabel again, even if it was only for a quick briefing.

  The back door swung open once more, and for a second Trevor thought Olivia had returned. Then he blinked, and realized he was looking at Isabel. As they’d arranged, she wore a red hoodie, blue jeans, and a pair of white sneakers. Hair the same shade as Olivia’s chestnut brown hung loose and cascaded down to her chest, and Isabel’s fair skin matched the dancer’s golden tone. At first glance, Isabel Roma was Olivia Taylor, and it wasn’t until she slid into the passenger seat and fixed those pale blue eyes on him that Trevor noticed a difference.

  Isabel truly was a chameleon, and a damn good one. He’d seen her in action when they’d gone undercover together in Bogotá. Her alter ego, Paloma Dominguez, was a Brazilian heiress with a lust for life, oozing sex and mischief and without a single inhibition. She was so convincing in the role that Trevor had been certain she was Paloma—until they returned to their hotel every night and Isabel’s laid-back disposition and outspoken approach made an appearance.