Rhapsody (The Teplo Trilogy #2)

by Ayden K. Morgen

  After helping her into an empty chair, Tristan turned to face the group, running a hand through his hair. "You're all aware of the Vetrov investigation?" He waited for everyone to nod before continuing, "We now have reason to believe one of the individuals working inside the club also works for Pedro Francisco." He paused when Jason grabbed a photo off his desk and passed it around the room. Everyone took a long look at the image before passing it on. "I can't get close to him to help identify him." The way he scowled, his jaw pulsing with tension, made it clear he still wasn't thrilled about having blown his cover.

  "What do we know about him?" Tori asked, handing the picture back to Jason after everyone had a chance to examine it.

  "Not much," Jason said, setting the photo on his desk. "The image there was taken in Mazatlán three months ago during routine surveillance. He appeared in Teplo about a month ago, right before Paulo Vetrov was photographed with Francisco in Tijuana. No one south of the border has been able to put a name to him for us, or even confirm that he works for Francisco. So we have no record of him, no details. Nothing."

  "You think he's running the show in Teplo?" Kieran asked, glancing between him and Tristan.

  "No," Tristan said with a shake of his head. "I think he's here to keep an eye on Anton Vetrov and the drugs for Francisco. So"—he took a deep breath—"we're sending Lillian in to see if she can get a name, a fingerprint…anything we can work with to identify him and confirm the connection to Francisco. Since he's not on Vetrov's payroll, and we have no solid link between him and Francisco, at this point, we have no fucking proof that he's involved in any way. Without that, we can't scoop him up when we raid. Since we haven't been able to locate the lab yet, it's imperative that we take him in with the rest of them. If we're right about him working for Francisco, there will be no stopping this shit from hitting markets around the world if he goes free on Sunday."

  "So we're watching her six tonight?" Rico asked, his fingers steepled beneath his chin and his dark eyes narrowed as if he were completely focused on the conversation at hand. Lillian couldn't put her finger of why she was so sure, but she had a feeling he could state exactly what everyone else in the room was doing though, right down to the little twitches no one ever noticed. He had that vibe to him, like he saw a hell of a lot more with those piercing dark eyes than most people and filed it away to be used later.

  "Yes." Tristan squeezed through the group to a white board set up near the bookcases. Grabbing a marker, he sketched out a map of the street, marking off her house and Teplo. "We're hopeful that everything will go smoothly and no one will have to go inside the club to extricate her, but we aren't taking any chances with her safety. If anything goes wrong, anything at all, we are going in after her." He met Jason's gaze, the lights in his eyes fierce.

  Jason didn't argue. He simply nodded his agreement.

  "Since I can't go in with her, Jason and I will establish command at her house and wait for whatever she's able to bring us. I want someone watching here." Tristan marked an "X" on the board at the back of the club. "We also need someone here." He drew another "X" near the front entrance. "Here"—another in the parking lot—"here,"—at the corner—"and here." With the final "X" behind her home, all possible escapes routes outside of the club would be covered.

  Lillian studied the board, a cold chill shooting through her, making the fine hair on her arms stand up. Seeing his plan all mapped out made it clear he planned for the worst. If someone tried to force her out of the club, they wouldn't get far before running into one of the five now examining the white board. Her stomach churned at the thought of what might happen to her if they did manage to get her past Tristan's team.

  "Every single one of Vetrov's people should be considered armed and dangerous," he said, meeting the gaze of each and every one of the people he'd assembled. "They have committed multiple murders, and they've done it without leaving behind a witness or piece of evidence strong enough to obtain an arrest warrant, let alone garner a conviction. If they approach any of you, consider them hostile because I can promise you, they will kill you without hesitation if they suspect who you really are. You do what you have to do to keep yourself and Lillian safe."

  "Can I ask a question?" Kieran asked and then waited for Tristan and Jason to nod before he turned to Lillian and grimaced. "No offense to you, Miss Maddox, but why the hell are we sending a civilian into this hellhole instead of Dodd?"

  "Because this guy has never seen Tori and probably wouldn't trust shit she said to him if she approached him, but Lillian's been inside the club multiple times. They're familiar with her face by now, and she's got a story they can believe," Tristan answered and then he sighed. "Look, I'm not thrilled we're sending her in either, but at this point, we don't have much of a choice. She's got a better shot than anyone of getting the information we're looking for."

  "What's her story?" Liam asked, looking between them.

  Tristan didn't say anything, his reluctance to share her story obvious.

  "The whole world thinks I got my dance partner hooked on heroin before he tried to kill me on stage a year ago," Lillian said quietly when it became clear he wasn't going to answer Liam. "And then Tristan had me marched out of my house in handcuffs on fake drug charges. So far as they know, I'm currently sitting in a jail cell, angry at the world and craving a fix."

  No one spoke. She stared at the floor, not sure she wanted to see the curiosity and pity on their faces. No matter how much time passed, she would never be comfortable talking about that night or the rumors that had spread like wildfire while she lay in the hospital. She'd never seen heroin in person before, and had passed multiple drug tests while in the hospital, yet everyone still believed she was an addict like Marc. Worse.

  "What's the plan if something happens while she's inside?" Tori asked after several long beats of complete silence, shifting in her chair.

  Lillian fought back a sigh of relief when the uncomfortable weight of so many probing gazes diminished. She glanced up to find everyone looking at Tristan. Everyone except Michael anyway. He watched her, his gaze full of understanding, oddly enough. Like he knew exactly how it felt to have the entire world believe you were something you weren't. He gave her a little nod before turning his attention back to Tristan.

  Lillian watched him for another moment before refocusing on Tristan.

  He capped the marker, his expression darkening. "If they put a hand on her, we’re going in after her. I don't give a fuck who we have to take out to get her out safely. She comes out unharmed or they come out in a body bag."

  Tori's eyes widened, but she didn’t say anything. The harshness in Tristan's tone left no doubts that he was deadly serious. If anyone inside touched her, he had every intention of tearing them apart. If anyone had a problem with his words, no one said anything, though Lillian felt the weight of Rico and Liam's gazes on her. When she peeked at them, both were watching her with something akin to understanding on their faces, like they'd feel the exact same way if they were in his position.

  Jason stepped away from his desk and cleared his throat. "She’ll be armed with a panic button while she's inside. If anything happens, we're going in. We will not risk her safety unnecessarily." He met her gaze briefly, that no bullshit look on his face, before he addressed the room. "If you see something suspicious, you let me know immediately. If anything even feels off when we get there tonight, she’s not going in. You are not to approach anyone from the club. Keep out of sight, keep your eyes open, and your radios on. Tristan knows more about the club and this case than anyone. You follow his orders like you would mine. We clear?"

  One by one, every agent in the room nodded.

  Sincerity rang out clearly in the chorus of "Yes sir," that sounded throughout the room.

  An hour later, Tristan, Jason, and the team had worked out all of the details while Lillian listened attentively. She knew who would be where and what to do in case anything went wrong. The plan for approaching the blond had been dril
led into her head until she could recite it back without hesitation.

  She would enter the club, order a drink, and wander around for a few minutes. From there, she'd make her way to the bathroom, where she'd spray the cup with a special compound that would help preserve any fingerprints, but would be undetectable without the proper equipment. Upon exiting the bathroom, she’d make another circuit around the room, picking out all the guards. Once she was comfortable she knew where they were, she’d arrange to "accidentally" bump into the blond, spilling some of her drink on herself. Somehow, she’d get the cup into his hands while she cleaned herself off, and then she’d reclaim the cup, wander around for a little longer, and then return home.

  Should the blond or anyone else question her, she’d tell them the story she, Tristan, and Jason had come up with: Marc Rivera had hired Tristan to help prove that she was abusing heroin and Ecstasy as part of a lawsuit he planned to file against her. Once Tristan had located her drug stash, he turned her in to Seattle, who'd arrested her. She now hated him with a passion and never wanted to see the bastard ever again. If they questioned her about him roaming around the club, sneaking into private spaces, she would claim she knew nothing about it. As far as she was concerned, he was an asshole and deserved anything he got.

  She'd repeated the story back to them several times, but saying the words still made her voice shake. Jason figured that would work in her favor, make her seem passionate about her hatred for Tristan. She wasn't so sure, but she didn't argue.

  They had planned for every eventuality, and it all sounded so simple. If she played her part right, she'd get in, get the guy's fingerprints, and get out without a problem. But she wasn’t stupid. Nothing about going into Teplo alone would be easy. A thousand different things could go wrong once she walked through the doors. She was terrified, but she couldn’t back out now. She wouldn’t. In all her years as a ballerina, she had never once let fear stop her from performing, and she wouldn’t this time, either.

  "Hey." Tristan drew her toward him with a hand on his wrist as the rest of the team broke up and made their way out of Jason’s office. All except Michael, who would help sneak her into the jail and then keep an eye on her as she hopped a taxi back to her house, where Tristan would be waiting for her. Everyone else would meet up half a mile from Teplo around nine for one more quick briefing before making their way to their positions.

  Michael and Jason conversed quietly as Tristan pulled her into his chest, cuddling her close. She went willingly, sighing when his strong arms closed around her, quieting the nervous roar of her thoughts.

  "You okay, sweetheart?" he asked.

  "Yeah. Ready to get it over with."

  He stepped closer, tilting her face up to his. His eyes were so gentle and so fierce, full of love and concern and a hundred other things that made her heart race. "I'll be right across the street the entire time. If anything goes wrong, you push the panic button, and I’m there."

  "I know," she said, not doubting for a minute that he'd be there in a matter of seconds if she pushed that button. But that didn't really help calm her any. He still wouldn't be inside the club with her. From the time she walked out of her front door until the time she walked back in, she would be on her own, performing for an audience that would kill her if they didn't believe every little move she made.

  He stared at her for a long, silent moment before turning to Jason. "Is Simon downstairs?"

  "Yeah, he was down in IT the last I heard."

  Tristan turned back to her. "You have your cell with you?"

  "Yes," she said, delving into the pocket of her shirt to retrieve it.

  He tucked her phone into the pocket of his jeans before taking her hand. "We’ll be back in a few," he said to Jason and Michael. "I’m going to have Simon set her up before she leaves."

  Jason nodded. "Have him arrange to send the signal to mine and Kincaid's phones as well. I'll meet you at the house as soon as everyone is in position tonight." He glanced at Lillian and smiled in assurance. "If anyone can pull this off, you can."

  "Thank you," she said, allowing Tristan to lead her out of the office.

  Jason's secretary, Janet, waved as they passed her and then stood side by side, waiting for the elevator. Once they were inside, Lillian couldn't contain her curiosity any longer.

  "Who is Simon?"

  "You’ll see." Tugging her closer, he delved his hand under her hair and began to massage the back of her neck.

  She moaned in appreciation, burying her face in his chest.

  They stayed wrapped up like that until the elevator shuddered to a stop, and then Tristan placed a gentle kiss on her crown and took her hand in his. He strolled with purpose through the maze of cubicles and offices before pulling her inside a little area tucked off in the far corner.

  Three men and a woman poked their heads up from a mass of computer equipment strewn around the room in what could only be described as organized chaos. Just looking at all the monitors and flashing lights made Lillian feel like she'd stepped into foreign territory. She knew enough about computers to get by, and she had a feeling none of her knowledge would be particularly impressive to any of the four now watching her and Tristan.

  "Simon?" he asked by way of greeting, and waited until one of the guys pointed toward a door at the back of the room before nodding in thanks and leading her that way. Without stopping to knock, he pushed his way into the small room.

  A kid sat at a round table with his feet propped up, a laptop balanced on his legs. He had massive headphones over his ears.

  "Yo, Simon," Tristan hollered, tapping the kid on the shoulder.

  He turned in their direction. Seeing who had interrupted him, he slipped the headphones off and grinned. Dressed in jeans and a white polo with an afro and hipster glasses, he barely looked old enough to be in high school, let alone employed by the federal government.

  "Are you over your aversion to the office or what? I heard you were here a few days ago." He sat his laptop on the table and stood to shake Tristan's hand.

  "Only by necessity," Tristan said, grimacing. He tugged Lillian a little further into the room. "This is Lillian. Lillian, meet Simon. If it's electronic, he can hack it."

  "Um, nice to meet you," she said, holding out a hand to him.

  Simon eyed her, sizing her up. "You're the ballerina," he said then, taking her hand in his. "I've heard a lot about you recently. All good, of course."

  She wasn't sure what to say to that so she offered a vague smile.

  It seemed to be enough for Simon. He released her hand and turned back to Tristan. "What do you have for me?"

  "Her phone," he said, pulling it out of his pocket and handing it over. "I have to be able to track every move she makes." He reached into his other pocket and pulled out his phone. "And I want the location to transmit to this phone, to Jason's, and to Kincaid's."

  "Do you want the ping in real-time or do you want it to text you locations if the program is turned on?" Simon turned Lillian's phone over in his hand. "I can install an app to do either, just depends on what best suits your needs."

  "Real-time," Tristan said. "I need to be able to see where she's at instantaneously so we can follow her if necessary."

  "Cool," Simon mumbled, playing with her phone.

  "Do you want the passcode?" she asked him.

  He didn't answer, instead staring intently at her phone with the tip of his tongue between his lips for several seconds. And then he grinned. "Nah," he said, holding it up to show her the home screen. "Your passcode is way too easy." He had his head hunched over the phone again before she could respond.

  She looked at Tristan who shrugged as if to say told you so.

  Twenty minutes later, Simon had the app installed and had showed her how to use the tracking program. So long as the GPS function was turned on, the program would track her and send live updates to Tristan, Jason, and Michael. She didn't feel one hundred percent better about going to Teplo alone, but it helped to know
that she had another safety net if she required it.

  "Here ya go." Simon handed the phone back to her once he was sure she knew how to use the application. "It's really straightforward. Oh! I forgot to tell you about the panic button," he said, pointing over her shoulder to a red button in the bottom right corner of the phone. "If you hit that button, the phone will immediately send an alert to the guys, letting them know you're in trouble. It'll also hide the icon so no one can tell the tracking program is on if they take your phone away."

  "We can turn the program on ourselves if we need to, right?" Tristan asked.

  "Yep." Simon grabbed his laptop and tapped out a string of gibberish on the keyboard. A program with a little red dot beeping in a maze of map lines popped up on the screen. "All you have to do is log in to the website or pull up the program on your phone and click on her name. If her phone is on, you're good to go. I tweaked the settings so the app doesn't require her permission for you to track her. It's a feature for parents, but it suits our purposes as well. See?"

  "Nice," Tristan said, leaning over the table to take a closer look. "Can you can link mine to hers?"

  "What do you mean?" Simon peered up at him.

  "I want her to be able to track me whenever she wants," he said with a shrug, as if it were no big deal. It was a big deal to her though. Now she wouldn't have to sit around and wait like she had the other night, terrified something had happened to him. Even if he couldn't or wouldn't answer his phone, all she had to do was open the program, and she could see for herself where he was.

  "Oh." Simon tapped out another string of commands on the laptop, shuffling through settings. Lillian had never seen anyone type so fast, or seen anyone quiver in their chair over the prospect of mobile phone tracking. After a few moments, he pointed to the screen. "All you have to do is check the box to share your location data with her account, and you're all set."