Girl Undercover 1, 2 & 3: Three-Part Bundle

by Julia Derek

  Could I really blame a corporation for pursuing the most successful strategy possible?

  I couldn’t, but I could feel it was something about their calculated strategy that felt icky to me. Something about it was just wrong on a visceral level.

  I was dying to share with Captain Brady that Nikkei had switched owners and that the owners were not only not located in America, but were also operating in an unusual manner for a health club. Since my instincts told me the answer to Nick’s death was related to Nikkei somehow, it was worth at least considering that The Adler Group might be involved.

  Maybe Adler had some kind of connection to Cardoza.

  According to what I could find online, the company had acquired Nikkei and its sister clubs in the U.S. eleven months ago. By then Cardoza’s trial was pretty much over and so were all investigations. I knew the feds had briefly investigated Millennium Partners given that Cardoza, in addition to his drug ring, was heavily involved in real estate development and had used the club as something of a headquarter. But they had found nothing of interest with Nikkei’s former owners, no connection to the Cardoza cartel the way the entire board of the Southeast Airlines had been part of it.

  I did some of my own research online to see if I could find any connection between Cardoza’s legitimate business dealings and The Adler Group. After an hour of intense Googling, I was exhausted and none the wiser. If the two had ever done business together, it was extremely well hidden. Or maybe their dealing had been on a personal level only.

  Maybe Cardoza had been the person who had suggested to The Adler Group’s CEO that Nikkei was a great health club and that he should look into it during some event where the two had met. Maybe it was something as simple as that.

  Stretching my arms over my head, I yawned big. My head was beginning to spin. It was late and I should go to bed. I had one of my few clients at eight the following morning and I wanted to be alert for our session. But before I signed off, I shot Brady a quick email and asked what was going on with Nick’s investigation. Maybe his reply would result in something useful, though I doubted they had made much headway into the case or Brady would have alerted me already. Still, even a small progress might help me.

  After taking a shower, I crept under my covers and closed my eyes. I had made sure to pop a couple of sleeping pills, the heavy-duty kind. I didn’t dare going to bed without being drugged. I’d rather get addicted to pills and sleep dreamlessly than endure the pain that assaulted me the second I wasn’t busy with something and was forced to think about what had happened to my life. To Nick. Without being knocked out, no matter how exhausted I was, I’d invariably think of my husband, how much I missed him. How I still couldn’t believe that he was really dead. During the waking hours I kept from thinking about him by staying focused on the task at hand. Working out so hard the physical pain overpowered the mental. It was the only way for me to remain sane and clear-headed. But at night as I’d gone to bed there was only me and the dark. It wasn’t fair that a man who had done so much for his country, helped so many others, sacrificed so much and was so altogether good would die so young. And die in such a terrible way.

  Luckily, before the hot tears that were burning the back of my eyelids could form and stream down my cheeks, the pills kicked in.

  ***

  When I was back at the club in the morning, I had decided that I would ask Emma more in depth about what had happened to the other trainers. She would know if they had all been fired. She had to know. And if I pushed her a little, I was convinced she would tell me the truth even if it made her uncomfortable.

  I really had no one else to ask but Emma. Even if she’d made that odd comment, she was still the only trainer who hadn’t gotten to know Annika well. I needed to keep my distance from the others as much as possible, not get involved in conversations unless absolutely necessary. It took only one of the veterans to recognize me and the rumors would spread like wildfire across the gym. Surely that part was still the same at Nikkei—everyone loved to gossip.

  I didn’t spot Emma until noon—working out in a corner.

  In the short time I had known her the first time around, I couldn’t remember her having worked out even once. When she hadn’t been on her floor shifts or working with a client, she was always on the computer or in the trainers’ lounge, reading a book. She had been all brains. It had obviously worked for her as she was still at the club and, from what I had seen so far, having lots of clients. So seeing her squatting vigorously now while balancing dumbbells on her shoulders definitely had me surprised. She was wearing baggy athletic pants over a loose-fitting, long-sleeved shirt and her hair was pulled back into a low ponytail. Her cheeks were flushed and the sweat was already forming along her hairline, so she was clearly giving herself a thorough workout.

  Hmm, I thought. Maybe she’d been given a deadline to lose weight and get in overall better shape by management. Now that I thought about it, she did have a healthy lunch yesterday—a turkey wrap together with a plain salad.

  I sauntered up to her, thinking this was the perfect time to talk to her since I was on shift and she wasn’t busy with a client.

  “Hey, Emma,” I said and shot her a smile. “Working out hard?”

  She threw me a look, but finished her set of weighted squats and then wiped her forehead with a towel before she turned to me. She smiled.

  “Hi Jamie! Yeah, I’ve decided to get in better shape. I’ve gained some weight that I need to lose. We trainers need to practice what we preach, right? Well, not that I have to tell you that. You’re in incredible shape. I saw you when you were working out last night. It was inspiring to say the least.”

  “Thanks,” I said and returned her smile. She couldn’t be working out right now only because my workout yesterday had inspired her that much, could she? I thought about the pull-ups and the clap pushups and the high box jumps I had done. All the heavy kettle bell swings and the power lifting with the barbells. The intricate dumbbell exercises involving my entire body followed by some deep dynamic stretching at the end. I had been drenched in sweat when I was done, the endorphins the workout released making me feel as good as I could possibly feel without resorting to drugs.

  While doing my workout, I had been wearing hot pants and a tiny sports bra. Nothing attracted potential clients like a trainer showing off that they had the goods in every sense of that word. With the fierce competition at the club, I knew I had to put in lots of effort to stay employed even though it wasn’t really my style to be that flamboyant. But the good thing was, nor had it been Annika’s, so I could relax in the knowledge that it wouldn’t trigger any suspicions to that end at least. Jamie was very different from both Gabi and Annika.

  I supposed it wasn’t so strange if my workout had inspired her as well.

  She bent over and started doing rows with the dumbbells. “How are you doing? I heard you picked up a couple of clients already.”

  “Yep. I did. Faster than I’d thought actually.”

  “Good for you. If you keep working out like that and showing off that great body, everyone’s gonna want to work out with you!”

  “Ha! Yeah, let’s hope so. Though I’m not so sure about that. Not with all the super model trainers working here now.” I waited for her to finish her set of bent-over rows before I moved on to what I really wanted to talk to her about. I walked a little closer and made sure no one was standing close by. “Hey, I wanted to ask you something.”

  “Go ahead,” Emma said while doing bicep curls.

  “Were the other trainers all fired or what happened? I honestly can’t remember anyone from when I was a member here. It’s kinda weird for a club to have that many new trainers in such a short time.” I walked even closer, pretending like I was anxious that someone would overhear me. “Should I be worried? Is there something going on with the new owners that I should know about?”

  I could instantly tell Emma knew more about The Adler Group than she’d let o
n the other day by the way her upper back suddenly went stiff. But she still finished her set of bicep curls. Putting the weights away in the rack, she turned to me.

  “What do you mean?” She put her hands on her hips. Her face had become tight, defensive and she looked like she wanted me to just go away.

  Wow, I clearly struck a nerve by asking those questions, I thought, though her reaction was not what I had wanted exactly. Well, there was nothing I could do about that but go on, keep acting like I was worried I might suddenly get fired. Hope that my vulnerable state would soften her defenses, lower the wall I could feel had come up between us.

  I gave her a nervous smile and threw a glance over my shoulder as if to be entirely certain no one was overhearing us. “Exactly what I asked. What happened with the other trainers? I’m well aware that trainers come and go at gyms, but not that many in such a short amount of time. It’s really weird. So can you please fill me in what happened to them? I learned yesterday from Jonah that the new owners aggressively recruit attractive, smart athletes from top colleges. Is that true? If it is, it’s super weird. Why would they feel the need to do that?”

  “Yes, it’s true. Most of the new trainers are from Ivy League schools and were directly recruited from there as soon as The Adler Group took over. What’s so weird about that? They just want the best trainers. If you were the owner, wouldn’t you only hire the very best? I think it’s a smart business strategy. There’s a reason Millennium had to sell the club. They were obviously not making any money.”

  “Oh, really? They weren’t?”

  “No, they weren’t. So they had to let a lot of people go and find new trainers. It’s really quite logical from a business standpoint.”

  I couldn’t argue with that. Except why had highly producing trainers like Clayton and Missy been fired then? I very much doubted either of them had just quit. They had both loved working at Nikkei.

  Emma’s face softened. “Don’t worry, Jamie. You’ll be fine. Just keep doing what you’re doing. Trust me.”

  I pretended to be relieved and exhaled. “Thanks for saying that. Well, I guess it makes sense then.” Then I twisted my face as though I just thought of something. “Wow, so that means that Clayton must have quit then. I used to train with Clayton and from what I can remember, he was extremely busy as a trainer and he always told me how much he loved working here. That’s why I came to work here actually. Do you know why he quit?”

  Emma looked away, not answering immediately and instead took her time fixing her hair in one of the mirrors that covered the walls. Then she finally looked back at me.

  She shrugged noncommittally. “I’m honestly not sure what happened with him. I know he had a meeting with the new managers and soon after that he was gone.”

  “Huh. Wow.”

  “Something else that you need to know?” There was tension in Emma’s voice now. “If not, I’d like to get back to my workout. I only have another twenty minutes before I have a client.”

  “No, no, that was it. Well, have a good workout then and I’ll see you later!”

  I waved and hurried away, sensing that Emma didn’t want to talk about this subject any more. In fact, it was obvious it made her deeply uncomfortable. I didn’t think she had lied when she told me she didn’t know what had happened to Clayton, but something was definitely off with her and I was determined to learn the reason for it.

  The best way to find out what had truly happened would be to ask Clayton himself. I smiled as I thought of Clayton. He and Annika had gotten along great. I was pretty sure I could convince him to talk to me, tell me everything I needed to know—as long as I was Annika again. And all I needed to become Annika was a platinum-blond wig and blue contacts.

  Chapter 6

  After I had trained the lady I met on the floor and put myself through another intense workout, I was done for the day. I would spend the evening nailing down Clayton and see if we could meet up somewhere.

  As I was leaving the club, my smartphone sounded in my pocket, announcing an incoming email. I pulled it out, hoping it was Brady getting back to me. It was.

  My heart picking up pace, I clicked the email open while at the same time stepping into the elevator.

  Hello Longoria,

  I hope all is well with you in Hungary. Thus far, we have made little headway into Nick’s murder. We have spoken to Cardoza and he claims to have no knowledge of the matter, not even that Nick had still been alive. I flew out to Sing Sing and spoke to him directly, and he appeared genuinely surprised. Additionally, he was put through a lie detector test that he passed as we interrogated him, though you and I both know those are possible to beat, especially for psychopaths like Cardoza. He has likely been prepared for polygraph testing. This means we can’t discount his involvement completely. I wish I had better news for you.

  Take care of yourself.

  Yours,

  B

  I put the phone back into my purse and thought about the contents of the email. Cardoza may be a psychopath, but Brady was very perceptive. It was more likely that the drug lord passed the polygraph testing than Brady’s watchful eyes. I firmly believed that my boss would have seen something if Cardoza knew what had happened to Nick. Especially if he had ordered the hit. Brady was surely just being his usual cautious self.

  I walked out onto the street, the strong sunshine blinding me momentarily as I walked in the direction of the furnished apartment I had rented a few blocks away, deep in thought. This was all very interesting. A month had passed since Nick was killed and you’d think that, at this point, Cardoza would have learned about it. Such news traveled fast.

  I chewed on the inside of my cheek. I supposed something could have happened to the people who murdered Nick—who had done so without an order from Cardoza—and that was why Cardoza didn’t know about it yet. Maybe they had been accidentally killed before being able to deliver the news. The way Nick had been butchered was so specific to how Cardoza liked to take care of rats, it was hard to believe it wasn’t somehow tied to people in his organization. Of course, the perp might only have wanted it to seem like someone tied to Cardoza was behind it—his methods weren’t a secret—but what was there to gain by doing that? The Cardoza cartel was dismantled and its leader and most coconspirators in prison for life.

  I sighed, shaking my head. Nothing quite made sense.

  As I reached my apartment, I found silverware so I could eat the salad I had picked up in Nikkei’s cafeteria before leaving. Then I took a seat before the table where I kept my laptop. Finding Clayton through Goggling should be a lot easier than finding Mystery Man. As far as I remembered, Clayton was on Facebook, though not very active. Which reminded me that I should add an update to the Facebook page my computer whiz friend George had created for Jamie, who was into social media whereas Annika hadn’t been. Another way to separate our identities.

  I Googled Clayton James and Facebook and immediately found him there. According to his profile, he was working at New York Sports Club now. Fortunately, you didn’t have to have an account on Facebook in order to send someone there a message. As long as the person had a unique username—which Clayton did—I could message him using Annika’s email address.

  I sent him a message, telling him that I was back in New York and that I needed to see him urgently. I could only hope he would respond soon and agree to see me.

  Instead of staring at my computer while waiting for him to respond, I walked into the bathroom, taking a long, much-needed shower.

  When I stepped out of the bathroom half an hour later and sat down before my laptop, I discovered there was an email waiting for me from Clayton. I clicked it open and read through the short message.

  Hey Annika!

  Welcome back to America! We missed you! Sure, when and where do you want to meet?

  Clayton

  “Yay!” I exclaimed and quickly typed back a response: Thank you, Clayton! How about sometime tomorrow? Do you have time?
What’s your no, so we can text? Mine is 646-776-4654.