Undercover Justice

by Adrienne Giordano

  A tingling sensation shot down Mitch’s spine, but his analysis of Steven—who was scamming the show’s producers as well—still held. The guy was the scummiest of the scum. “What’d this guy look like?”

  “Hell, I don’t know. It was dark. We were at a table clear on the other side of the room and they were at the bar. The dance floor was between us.”

  “Did she leave with this guy? Maybe take him up to her room?”

  “Cole and I left before they did. Cole wasn’t feeling good. Never saw her again after that.”

  One of the other bachelorette contenders—Julia, her name tag read—sidled up to Mitch. “Hey handsome. You should be on Dancing With the Stars or something.”

  Or something.

  A cloud of perfume encircled his head, nearly making him gag. She was probably pretty in that girl-next-door way under all the gaudy makeup. He would have introduced her to Steven, but he wouldn’t wish that maggot on his worst enemy.

  Grabbing Julia by the elbow, he turned her around and guided her back to the main area. “Sorry, sweetheart, my dance card is full.”

  Caroline was waiting for him, fending off another of the bachelors with a death glare. The guy, smart man that he was, turned tail and followed after Julia. “I’ve been checking Megan’s last series of tweets and Instagram posts,” Caroline said. “I think she may have had a cyber stalker.”

  Mitch’s phone dinged with a text from Teeg. He checked the message and the photo attached to it.

  Bingo.

  He turned the phone so Caroline could see the photo. It was shadowy and the guy’s head was turned in profile, but it was definitely #SinCityBitch sitting next to him at the hotel bar. “And I think maybe she had a real, live, flesh and blood one.”

  5

  Caroline sat at the desk in her suite scrolling through the Twitter feed of @BadAssOne, the man who’d spent a good chunk of his prior three months trying to engage Megan and receiving limited, if any, responses. Determined lad that he was, he’d kept trying. And maybe it wasn’t enough to be considered stalker territory, but in Caroline’s opinion, it was close enough to warrant a good look.

  On the bed behind her, Mitch busied himself checking Megan’s other social media accounts. Social media, as dangerous a beast as it could be, often times put an investigation on the fast track. Whether they realized it or not, people allowed their movements to be traced simply by posting photos and announcing all the fabulous places they’d visited.

  Caroline spun the desk chair to face Mitch. “This Bad Ass One looks promising. Do you have anything on him on her other accounts?”

  “Bad Ass One? Seriously?”

  Mitch set his laptop on the bed and rolled to his feet. At 6’1”, Mitch was all jean-clad long legs and sinewy muscle that, from the first day—the first second—Caroline had seen him, got her engines firing. As crazy as they made each other, a day without Mitch was a day without oxygen. Watching the man move, how his body filled the space, how the raw masculinity reached inside and stirred her up? Well, that never got old.

  And, unlike Megan’s Twitter fan, Mitch had actually earned the title of Bad Ass.

  “Honey,” Mitch said, “you keep looking at me that way and we’ll have to take a break for an hour or twelve.”

  But something in his tone was off. The sarcasm in his normal sexual innuendos had taken on a sharper edge. A not-so-playful edge. Barely a foot away, he stopped and set his hands on his hips. Probably for something to do since Mitch pretty much couldn’t stay still for more than three seconds.

  She stood, took two small steps and slid her arms around his waist, tucking her body against his. The familiar zap shot up her arms and she hugged him close, snuggling against his T-shirt and receiving zero response. Not a return hug, not a kiss on the head, not a single movement.

  Zippo.

  Still, even with a mad Mitch, she enjoyed the familiar salty-air scented laundry detergent he bought because it was cheap and didn’t smell like flowers.

  Her Mitch.

  And she had some work to do.

  “You know I love you, right?”

  “I do know that,” he said, still keeping his hands on his hips. “You want something from me. My guess is it has something to do with that bed. Sex, you trust me with.”

  Oh. Ouch. “I’m sorry about before. About…hurting you.” She backed away, looked up into his eyes. “I never want to hurt you. Ever. You’re too important to me.”

  “But?”

  Ach. The big but. She hated buts. But had to be the worst word ever created. But nullified everything that came before it.

  I love you, but…

  You’re right, but…

  That’s fine, but…

  In Caroline’s mind, anything after but didn’t count. And she wouldn’t do that to him.

  “No but. I was wrong. I know how protective you are and I wasn’t sure how you would react to me being a bachelorette on some slimy reality show. Honestly, I didn’t think I could handle working this case with you. Knowing you’d be watching men paw at me.”

  “So, what? You asked Grey to cut me out of the op?”

  That sounded bad. The truth often did. She nodded. “Yes.”

  “And he didn’t argue?”

  Grey and Mitch had been friends for years. They’d all been at the Bureau together, three idealist newbie agents who’d wanted to serve. All three of them still wanted to serve, but the idealist part had died long ago. They’d seen too much, experienced the sting of D.C. politics too often, and the idealists had been stripped down to realists. Now, here they were, facing the ugly impasse where their personal and professional lives simply couldn’t co-exist.

  Bound to happen. They’d been lucky so far, but luck tended to run out at the most inopportune times.

  Caroline gripped the material of Mitch’s T-shirt. “To be fair, Grey was surprised when I requested to work this alone. I wasn’t sure either one of us could handle it and I didn’t want that pressure.”

  She loved this man. He’d been the only one she could say that about. Even before they were lovers she’d ached for him in a way that almost destroyed her. And then after they’d finally given in to their attraction, he’d disappeared on her. Vanished.

  He’d devastated her. It had taken almost a year of lonely nights, of men who would never live up to the Mitch Monroe standard, of wondering where the hell he was, to understand, even back then, he’d been protecting her.

  They’d been through so much and now, after finally—finally—getting their act together, they’d been happy. At least until her mother went bride bezerk, but still, as a couple they’d thrived.

  I blew it.

  God, losing Mitch again would break her. She’d survive it, she knew. But in the game of life, surviving and living were different things.

  “Wow,” Mitch said, his voice low and…shattered. “That’s…wow.”

  She’d done it. Bitch that she was, she knocked a strong, balls-to-the-wall man to weakness. My fault. She squeezed her eyes closed, fought the putrid energy spewing inside her. No tears. He’d hate that as much as she did.

  “I’m so sorry. I know it sounds harsh. I know. My intention was to keep our personal life intact. I love you. You’re more important than my career. I wanted to protect us by not putting us in a situation where emotions could take over. And, well, clearly, I failed. But, please, you have to know, I didn’t want to hurt you. Not like this. I knew you’d be mad, but I didn’t expect…”

  What to call it? No idea. Instead, she tugged on his shirt and dropped her gaze to her feet. Such a grand screw-up.

  Mitch lifted his hand, rested one finger under her chin and tilted it up. “You didn’t expect me to go all pansie-assed on you?”

  He whipped out that slick Mitch Monroe smile, the vagina melter that could end arguments, invoke orgasms and win forgiveness. Sometimes all at once. Poof—her anxiety blew apart. Just flew right from her body.

  As usual, he’d saved her.


  When he waggled his eyebrows, she snorted. Relief took hold and she rested her forehead against his chest. “You’ve never had a pansie-assed day in your life.”

  He kissed the top of her head. “I want you to trust me, Caroline.”

  She looked up, met his eyes because this was important. He needed to understand. Needed to be convinced. “I do trust you. Absolutely. I made a mistake. I wasn’t fair to you.”

  He nodded, ran one of his hands over her hair and twirled his fingers around the end. Another habit—the touching, the connection—she’d become used to.

  “I get it,” he said. “I probably deserved it. It won’t change how protective I am, but next time, I won’t freak. You have to talk to me though.”

  “I will. It’ll never happen again.”

  “Good.” He gripped her hair in his hand, gently tilted her head back and kissed her neck, running his tongue over the ultra-sensitive spot just above her collarbone that often catapulted them into a panty-dropping, mind-blowing quickie.

  Caroline’s phone rang—Teeg’s ringtone—and she leaped back, fighting off the do-me pheromones that Mitch had unleashed.

  “I hate that phone,” Mitch said.

  “Right now, so do I.” She held her hands up. “It’s a text from Teeg. He’s playing with that image he sent you. Trying to ID the guy.”

  “Then you should get it.”

  She scooped the phone off the desk and, yep, Teeg had sent another photo. A clearer one that he’d been able to crop and enlarge so they could get a better image of the man Megan had been in the bar with.

  “Whoa.” Sliding her fingers over the screen, she zoomed in tighter on the man’s features. His nose specifically. Could it be? “This is good.”

  “What?”

  “Hang on.”

  She whipped back to her laptop, tapped the mouse pad and @BadAssOne’s Twitter feed came up. She clicked on his profile picture. No good. Wait, wait, wait. The selfies.

  Self-absorbed people were the best. The. Best!

  She flicked at the mouse pad, scanning photos as she went and…

  “Bingo!” she smacked her hands together. “Got ya!”

  Mitch moved next to her and she tapped at the screen. “See that bump in his nose?”

  “Yeah.”

  “It belongs to @BadAssOne.”

  “Okay.”

  She held her phone up so Mitch could see the enhanced photo. “This is the man sitting in the bar with Megan. Notice the bump in his nose. It’s the same as @BadAssOne.”

  The side of Mitch’s mouth lifted. “Then let’s find @BadAssOne.”

  6

  The sunrise over the mountains was beautiful. The woman in Mitch’s hotel bed even more.

  He massaged the back of his neck and stared at Caroline sleeping peacefully. It was going to be another scorcher—he just hoped his heart didn’t get burned again today.

  His stomach felt like lead, he couldn’t shake it. She’d apologized, and he did get it. She’d cut him out of the picture for damn good reasons. That was her, Miss Logical. He couldn’t fault her for that.

  Didn’t mean it was any easier to accept.

  Normally, he would have gone ballistic over her blatant dishonesty, but this time, it didn’t happen—he’d pulled in. Withdrew.

  His nerves still buzzed with the foreignness of it all. He’d forgiven her but he still felt like someone had carved up his insides. Rather than feeling mad, he felt gutted.

  What’s wrong with me?

  Why had this affected him so deeply?

  Coming to terms with that, and what it meant going forward, had kept him up the rest of the night. Caroline had fallen asleep on the couch, still on the trail of @BadAssOne. Mitch had gently put her to bed around two a.m. and went to work on his own leads—and his own demons.

  He’d realized what it was about an hour ago when he’d seen a bride and groom running across the street below, laughing with abandon. The woman’s veil had been blowing behind her in the breeze, her new husband checking the traffic as they’d crossed the street in the early morning hours.

  Marriage.

  Love.

  Forever.

  Yeesh. That thought normally made Mitch cringe. Instead, seeing that couple ready to start their lives together, he’d smiled.

  Smiled.

  Goddamn. Yep, he knew what was wrong with him, and that, kiddos, meant he was in some deep shit.

  Deeper than deep.

  Which, for him, was saying something since he’d gotten himself into some pretty deep shit in his lifetime.

  Caroline stirred behind him on the bed. “Did you sleep at all?”

  He shrugged, poured some coffee from the fresh pot he’d started minutes before, and brought her a mug. “I know you’re confident that Bad Ass is our prime suspect, but something about that picture from the bar Teeg sent us was bugging me. I didn’t figure it out until after you fell asleep.”

  She wiped her eyes and sipped the coffee. Grimaced. She hated his coffee but never complained. True love, right there, folks. “What is it?”

  He snagged her laptop from the desk and brought it over, sitting on the bed next to her. One of her long, bare legs brushed against his and he felt the same thrill he always did when he was close enough to touch her. The lead in his stomach hadn’t dampened his libido. Then again, did anything with this woman? Caroline could actually shoot him like she was always threatening to, and it would turn him on.

  Sick bastard.

  On the screen of her computer, he had the photo loaded with Megan and Bad Ass at the hotel bar. He pointed at the mirror behind the bar where they sat. “See this in the mirror reflection?”

  She leaned in. “That guy? Yeah, what about him?”

  Mitch zoomed in, bringing up the face. It was slightly pixelated but the man’s features were still distinguishable. “Recognize him now?”

  “Holy shit.” Caroline set her mug down on the nightstand and grabbed the laptop from him. She squinted at the screen. “Is that…?”

  “Yep. Toby, the assistant director. He was at the bar, watching Megan. I had Teeg run a background check on him, and it seems he has a record. Guess for what.”

  “Kidnapping a young woman?”

  “Battery.” Mitch snagged the mug and took a sip of coffee. “On a different reality TV show he worked on, prior to this one, one of the contestants claims he screamed at her and shoved her up against a wall when she wouldn’t follow the script. She was naive enough, I guess, to believe reality TV is actually real and impromptu.”

  Caroline shoved the laptop at him and grabbed her jeans from the floor where he’d tossed them. It had taken every ounce of restraint to peel those puppies off of her and not wake her up by putting his mouth on a strategic location.

  “I’ll take a quick shower and then we better have a talk with Toby,” she said.

  “I already tried to find where he’s staying. It’s not here at the hotel with the contestants. Teeg’s looking into it. Meanwhile, we’ll get the call that we’ve been chosen and have to attend that party tonight. We’ll pin him down then.”

  “You’re sure we’ll both be picked for the show?”

  “You doubt our perfection? By the way, I started a Twitter convo with Mr. Bad Ass.”

  “You did what?”

  “My handle is @CaptainSarcastic. My profile reads, ‘Sarcasm served hourly.’”

  He smiled as Caroline smacked her forehead with a palm. “Well, that fits.”

  “Hey, I have sixty-thousand followers already. People love my sarcasm.”

  “Sixty-thousand? How in the world did you do that in five hours?”

  “Brennan might have helped. Teeg got Bad Ass’s IP address which gives us a general area of where he’s posting from, but we don’t have a physical street address yet. I figured maybe I’d tackle finding him from the other side of the coin, hit him straight on.”

  “And you wonder why I don’t like you crashing my operations. I can’t take you anywh
ere. So what did you and Bad Ass discuss?”

  Her hair was sticking up at an odd angle and Mitch wanted to pull her back into the bed and mess it up some more. The lead in his stomach had softened a bit too. Working cases was what they were good at. “You saw what he posted last night. Kinky shit that hints he’s violent.”

  “Like, ‘bad girls must be spanked.’”

  “Exactly. So I commented on one of his tweets and he replied. He definitely has feelings of infallibility and privilege.”

  “A God complex?”

  “Grey’s the profiler, but I’d say the kid believes he’s doing God’s work and bringing whores like Megan—his words, not mine—to heel.”

  “He talked to you about her?”

  “Not specifically to me. He posted a tweet that said, ‘whores like Megan will burn’ after you fell asleep. I didn’t want to scare him off, so I favorited the tweet and commented that I was glad she was off the show.”

  “It’s public knowledge that she’s no longer a potential bachelorette?”

  “Honey, what happens in Vegas never stays in Vegas.” He pulled up an online tabloid Teeg had alerted him to and turned the screen so she could see it. “Megan is out, and you, my dear, are in.”

  Caroline’s eyes went round and her jaw dropped. “Oh, shit!”

  Yep, gone was the suit and gun. His sexy Fed girlfriend was splashed all over the latest gossip mag in her slutty dress and hooker heels. Someone inside the previous night’s event had snapped her doing the tango with him.

  “What if my mother sees that?”

  Her mother wouldn’t recognize her. “Don’t worry,” he said, smirking. “I’ll marry you and make an honest woman out of you if I have to.”

  Her jeans hit him in the face a second before she disappeared into the bathroom, hyperventilating.