Kate’s words are still ringing in my ears. Even the screeching sound of the Metro Rail car careening around the bend and grinding to a halt at Union Station in North Hollywood can’t drown out the memories that always bubble to the surface, no matter how hard I try to keep them buried. They fuel my desire for redemption, for retribution, for justice. They’re never too far away, always on the brink of being unleashed, but fuck if I need the distraction right now.

I’d screwed up, a million times over. And I have to make things right, before it’s too late. So much time with my family had been wasted while I chased assholes like Conlon, who’d taken so much from so many. I wanted them to pay, to suffer the way their victims did, the way my family did. I gave up a shit ton, and for what? For five years in the clink? A broken marriage, a son who I have barely any contact with? Battling my inner enemies has taken a toll on everyone around me, and I have exactly one chance left to fix things between us, if he is even willing to let me.

The problem is that the demons still lurk, watching and waiting. I need to crush them before they yank anyone else away from me.

That’s my biggest concern. If I fuck up again, I lose everything. But can I finally leave the past where it belongs?

I step out onto the train platform and glance up at a nearby clock. I’ll be just in time for my three o’clock meeting with Kensington. The stench of stale urine, combined with my epic failure to score any wins during this underground witch hunt, makes my stomach turn. I’ve infiltrated the deepest, darkest holes, rubbed elbows with the scummiest of the scum, toxic degenerates who have tainted life to the point where it’s black, free from any traces of light. And still nothing to show for it. So far.

I trudge up the stairs, brushing past commuters running to catch the next train. Each step closer to the meeting spot knots my stomach tighter. We need a break. Out of desperation, I’d found Ollie, but things aren’t moving as fast as I’d like. I need to find out what Conlon has planned, and I can only do that if I get into his house. I’m the last person he wants to see on his doorstep, so I had Ollie plant some bugs into his security camera feeds. But there’s a glitch, and I’m waiting for him to fix it. In the meantime, we’re on hold, and not knowing what Conlon is up to is frustrating the hell out of me. That slimy sonofabitch keeps slipping through my fingers. Every time he turns around, I’m there, seconds too late.

Our meeting spot is a few blocks up, in a nondescript building with only a few floors. It’s in a pretty shitty area of Hollywood. Nothing about the location calls attention to our group. We come and go, careful not to arouse attention of any kind. The more we blend in with the crowds, the better our chances for success. If people look twice, you’re fucked. It’s happened enough times before, and we take no unnecessary chances with our work.

I walk inside the building, a rush of cold air chilling my skin. I pull open the door to the stairwell and begin the upward climb. I never take elevators, especially in this building. It’s too damned creaky, and I’m claustrophobic as fuck. Tight spaces throw me off my game, but any perceived weaknesses can be deadly, so I keep shit like that on lock-down. I’m no rookie.

I jog up the few flights of stairs and head toward Suite 4B. There’s no sign on the door, only a number. Only people in the know dare to put their hand on this doorknob. I fish out my key and shove it into the lock before pushing open the door. The space is bare, save for a table and a few chairs scattered around. There’s an erasable whiteboard along one wall and blacked out blinds covering the tall windows. The shit that goes down in here is for our eyes only. We don’t leave anything to chance.

Unless there’s a royal fuckup, which is why I’m here now. Evidently, this one is all on me.

A refrigerator door slams closed, and I turn to find one of my partners, Mark Kensington, aka Kegs, holding out a bottle of Blue Moon. “Thought your throat might be a little dry since you’ve been doing way too much talking for someone who should be keeping his fucking mouth shut.”

I grab the open bottle from his hand. “Why don’t you tell me how you really feel, Kegs?”

“Why the hell did you go to Ollie? We discussed—“

“No!” I point a finger at him. “You don’t get to tell me how to run this. I’ve been tracking this asshole for too long not to get my hands on him this time. We need all the help we can get. If Ollie can get us in—“

“Jeff, you need to get your head screwed on straight. Too much shit is clouding your judgment, and you’re gonna end up taking a fucking ice pick through the skull if you’re not smart about this.”

“I’m going to do whatever it takes to bring that motherfucker down, and make no mistake, it’ll be with or without your help. Ollie is the best, and you know it.”

“Yeah, but why the hell is he going to trust you after all of this time? And how do you know you can trust him?”

I take a long gulp of the beer. “We have an understanding.”

Kegs tips back his beer. “Oh, so that’s supposed to make me feel better about this whole scheme hanging by a thread?”

“Goddammit!” I rake a hand through my hair and allow the rage to overtake, just for a second. I slam my fist against the wall, punching a hole through the cheap sheetrock. Barely caused a scrape. If it’d been plaster, my hand would be broken in too many places to count.

Kegs lets out a frustrated sigh. “Great, now we won’t be able to get the security deposit back.”

He’s trying to lighten the mood, but he can’t. Nothing can, not until I bring that asshole to justice. “Stop questioning every move I make. We’re on the same team here, right?”

“If we were, you would have talked to me first. It’s not just Ollie who’s involved now. You got some Hollywood twat twisted into this whole thing, along with her overpaid babysitter. You scared the hell out of them, and now they’re looking for answers, Jeff. It won’t take long before that Carlson chick figures shit out, flashes her tits, and makes Ollie come in his fucking khakis for confirmation that your story is bullshit. He works for her, do you get that?”

Christ, this is the story of my life. Kegs, as usual, is right. He’s the first one to dump emotion at the door. He goes into every situation the same way – calm, clearheaded, and strategic. I run in hot and out even hotter, fueled by everything that keeps me in lock step with the scourge of the earth.

I should have known he’d have the situation analyzed within minutes of me dragging my ass out of Ariana’s office at an ungodly hour of the morning. I could have easily blown my cover by showing up there. But I didn’t, and that’s the important thing.

“It won’t be a problem.”

“Jeff, you better know what the fuck you’re doing. If Conlon gets tipped off that you’re on his tail—“

“I’ll take care of Ollie.”

“How exactly do you plan to do that? You can’t just show up there again. He can take this whole thing down with a few strokes of his keyboard.””

“He won’t. Trust me.”

Ironic. I’m asking for Kegs to trust me when I’ve violated the trust of so many others that I’ve lost count.

* * *

“That skank whore spent fifteen grand on those tits.” My mother Angeline smooths back her ash blonde hair, hands on her hips, staring at herself in a full-length mirror at Belle Boutique on Rodeo Drive. Mom’s body is poured into a tight beige Escada sheath dress, and she twists around in the crystal encrusted Louboutins on her feet.

It’s been two days since my very structured life was thrown into upheaval, and I’m trying to keep my nerves from stretching beyond the breaking point, which is quite a challenge in present company.

“That’s a bargain for Beverly Hills, Mom.”

She spins around, choking me with a cloud of Chanel No. 5. “Ari, aren’t you going to try anything on? You don’t have a lot of time to find something decent to wear. The party is this weekend, for heaven’s sake. And Damon has plenty of handsome and accomplished friends who would be thrilled for a chance to get to know his future sister-in-law.”

“I’m not interested.” I toss my handbag onto a chair and walk over to a rack of dresses. It’s not the answer my mother wants to hear, but romance isn’t exactly a priority for me right now. Of course, some sweaty, nasty, fuck-me-against-the-wall sex with Jeff Last-Name-Not-Included would be very welcome. His deep-set eyes peeled back every layer of my self-control, challenged me to succumb to my deepest, dirtiest desires, and begged me to straddle him and ride him like a frenzied jockey. Well, maybe that last bit was more of a figment of my lewd imagination. My collection of vibrators have made that fantasy come to life many times since he waltzed into my life, leaving me lustfully panting in his wake.

Screw romance.

I have bigger fish to fry, like what the hell I’m supposed to do about Scarlet and those raunchy pictures, and how I’m going to deal with that asshat Trey Conlon.

Damage control is a pretty big part of my daily life. But you can’t save everyone. I should know. Everyone’s been trying to save me for years.

The thing is, I actually don’t need saving, not that anyone knows it. My decisions have given me all the safety I need. Affairs, heartache, jealousy, resentment…I don’t need any of that. I have a career; a damn good one. Besides, I have plenty of other peoples’ drama surrounding me on a daily basis. It’s bad enough I was consumed by my parents’ drama for so long. Too long if you ask me.

I glance back at my mother. Yes, she’s a stick-up-her-ass plastic socialite, but she didn’t start out that way. She’s been molded into that person after years of playing the role of victim. Now, she could have gone in a different direction and done something worthwhile with her life, to show my father that his rejection and infidelity didn’t break her, but she opted for this route. She buries herself in her lifestyle with her nose in the air because that’s the way she has chosen to cope.

And maybe I feel guilty for turning my back on her during her time of need, so I overcompensate by helping others like her. I’m kind of a shrink for the superficial, I suppose.

But that’s only my part-time gig. Only a handful of people know the full story, and my family isn’t on the short list.

My mother turns back to me, clutching her breasts in the dress, and pushing them toward her neck. “This is about where your father’s girlfriend had hers placed. I don’t know how she’s can swallow with that load sitting right on her throat.”

I laugh so hard, I nearly spit out my gum. “Can you please stop fondling yourself?” I gasp in a fit of giggles. “We’re in public, for chrissakes!”

And there it is. A genuine smile lifting my mother’s collagen-filled lips, like sunshine has temporarily melted the icicles. I’ll be damned. There are always glimpses into the person my mother used to be, but lately they are few and far between. “It’s good to see you laugh, darling. I don’t believe I’ve heard that sound in quite some time.”

My shoulders finally stop shaking, and I sit back in the chair with a sigh. “It’s not easy being in the middle of this, even years later.”

The clipped tone is back. “I would think you’d be a little more understanding, Ariana. It hasn’t been easy to deal with your father and his philandering – the humiliation, the degradation, not to mention the media. He’s a low-life bastard, who’s done everything to make my life a living hell.”

“I don’t know, Mom.” I wave a hand at her. “It doesn’t exactly look like you’re dragging ass. Quite the contrary, as a matter of fact. And I know that’s the case because you just had a butt lift not too long ago.”

Mom peeks around to check out her ass in the full-length mirror. “Yes, well, when you’re my age, everything drags. Thank God for the magic fingers of Dr. Vladdisseau.”

And tongue. “Yep, I’m sure Doc Vee was mighty happy with his work, too.” I stifle another giggle, which turned into a snort. They don’t call him Doc Vee for nothing. He’s rumored to nip, tuck, lick, and screw, if you know what I mean. And yeah, he can reconstruct the hell out of the lady parts, too. So I’ve heard. He’s likened to Michelangelo, only his medium is flesh, not stone.

My ringtone blares, echoing in the empty space. I grab it and stab the Accept button, despite the unknown number. Something I never do, but my head isn’t cooperating with my fingers quickly enough. “Ariana Carlson.”

“Ari, it’s Holly Mason. Listen, I just had a cancellation for The Tonight Show on Monday, and Jimmy wants to get Scarlet out here while she’s still hot off her Grammy win. Can you make it happen?”

I clutch a hand to my chest and bite my lip from screeching with pure glee. Sweet Jesus, it’s a miracle! I couldn’t have planned it better if I tried. It’s time to make people fall in love with that little whore all over again, and as fast as humanly possible. The gears start turning. And…score for a pre-wedding gift to Eva! She loves Jimmy Fallon. It’ll be like our own private bachelorette party, since she refused to have one in Vegas like everyone wanted. But Monday…ouch. That means we’ll be on a plane the day after the cocktail party. I very much doubt she’ll object, though, especially if she gets to meet Jimmy.

“We’ll be there. Just email the details to Layna. Thanks so much for thinking of us, Holly. Let’s catch up soon, okay?”

“Definitely, love. Call me when you get here. We’ll grab a drink.” Click.

Between the stress, my mother, and the party, I can use a whole bottle of anything right about now. But first, I need to commence with Operation Salvage Scarlet. I glance at my mother smoothing the curves of her newly shaped ass once again, a self-satisfied smile on her face. Christ, it’s higher than mine, and I’m thirty years younger. Maybe I need to consult the racks for a dress that can make my ass look like hers. Not that I want just anybody to look. Only one specific person comes to mind.

My iPhone bleeps again. Ollie. “Mom, I’m taking this outside.” She’s too busy admiring herself to even hear me. I roll my eyes and push open the door. “Hey, what’s going on?”

“Don’t get nervous…”

I let out a sigh. “If you start off that way, of course I’m going to get nervous. What the hell is going on?”

“Jeff called me again. He knows there’s an issue with the surveillance I set up.”

“Make sure it’s never fixed on his end, okay? We need to figure out his beef with Conlon.”

“That’s not the problem.”

“Great, there’s more?”

“Unfortunately. Since the surveillance isn’t working, he wants help getting inside Conlon’s house.”

“What?” I smack a hand against my forehead. “Ollie, we cannot be working with this guy! You need to make up some—“

Ping! I furrow my brow at the number. Who the hell is texting me?

“I guess you just got his message. He wants to meet with you, and we need to find out what he knows. This can jeopardize everything, Ari. I’m on standby.”

“Thanks.” My voice trails off as I click End and check the screen for an incoming text.

Fresco. 12:30. Just you.

I swallow hard and shoot off a quick text to my mother, letting her know I have an unexpected meeting to attend. Argh! I hate that I’m just dropping everything and running, for a stranger no less. This is not how I roll, not even for one with the face and body of a Greek god, who may hold enough information to destroy everything I’ve been working toward.

I love my job, I love my job, I love my job…

I jump into my car and peel away from the curb. Fresco is a couple of blocks away, and I need the time to settle myself before finding out how screwed I actually am. Can’t that oversexed asshole Conlon keep his pants zipped?

Ollie says it’s a ruse, but I refuse to take any chances. I need answers, and fast. The clock is ticking, and any delays will blow this whole thing wide open. And I’ll be damned if I don’t collect on what I’ve been promised.

The tires screech to a halt in front of the valet stand at Fresco. I toss my keys to the young guy and rush inside. The lunchtime crowd has migrated from the bar to the dining room, so I catch a delicious glimpse of Jeff right away. He’s sitting in front of two glasses, one near empty, and one full. He runs a hand through his dark hair. The overhead lights catch the few strands of gray, making them shimmer. This man…yes, he’s a certifiable man, not a boy…is sexy as hell. A shiver slithers down my spine. Oh, God. I hate jumping when someone says, but for this guy, I’d do a hell of a lot more. Not that I’d ever let him know that. He thinks he’s the bad guy. Little does he know.

I inch closer, holding my breath with each step, like I’m an awkward teenaged girl all over again. He picks up a glass and drains the remaining liquid, then he turns toward me. His dark eyes glitter as they drink me in, slowly skimming over the entire length of my body, lingering a second longer on my boobs, which even I have to say look amazing in this shirt. Thank God for Victoria’s Secret and my fabulous new Dream Angels pushup bra. You can never be too young to perk up your girls. Fucking gravity. And I haven’t even had kids yet.

His lips curl upward into a seductive smirk. Dangerous, but so enticing at the same time. My heels click on the shiny lacquered floor as I close the distance between us. He hops off the bar stool and holds out his hand.

“Thanks for coming.”

I eye his hand, anxious to touch it, but definitely not wanting to appear as eager as I feel. “I’m only here because of Ollie.”

“That’s disappointing.” He cocks an eyebrow. “I’d hoped you wouldn’t need convincing.”

A hot flush creeps up my neck and is about to explode onto my cheeks as I get ready to play the role of the unsuspecting pawn. “And I’d hoped we were finished when you left my office the other morning.”

“Maybe you need to screen your clients a little more carefully before signing them.”

I narrow my eyes and fold my arms over my chest, ready to act my ass off. I see a tiny flicker of disappointment in his hungry gaze that I obstructed his view, but fuck him. He doesn’t deserve it. “I’m more than confident in my abilities to keep my clients away from negative publicity of any kind. I don’t run away from challenges, I embrace them. I’m that good.”

His smile broadens. “I’m sure you are. The fact still remains, you have a pretty messy situation on your hands right now. If this information falls into the wrong person’s lap, your little speech will fall on deaf ears.”

My eyes fall to the full glass on the bar, ignoring his threat. “Is that vodka?”

“Yes. Was I right?”

I grab it and take a long gulp. Straight vodka, going right to my empty stomach. Oh, this is not going to end well. I slam it back on the bar. “Lucky guess.”

“Things are heating up with my investigation, Ariana. This is a very sensitive situation, and we’re going to need help from your client.”

I choke down another sip and nearly spit it out when he utters those last words that I never in my life expected to hear. “What kind of help? She isn’t a spy!”

“She can get to Conlon, and I need you to make it happen.”

“What about the surveillance Ollie set up for you? Eyes and ears? Isn’t that what you’d asked for? I’m not putting myself, my colleagues, or my clients on the chopping block because you can’t figure out how to do your job.” My throat is tight, my heart thudding like a jackhammer in my chest. What he’s asking is impossible. And fucking crazy. I should tell him to come back when he’s got a subpoena, which will be never, since I know there’s no investigation. I should also tell him where to stick it then storm the hell out of this place. But my feet refuse to move.

He leans toward me, reaching behind my head, fisting my hair. I can feel his hot breath against my skin as he breathes the next words. “I’d really like to show you how well I actually can do my job, Ariana.” I inhale deeply, taking in his musky scent, letting it fill me with a latent desire I didn’t even know existed before I’d met him. My lips part and a low moan escapes. One by one, my inhibitions fall to the polished wood floor.

His brows furrow. “Are you okay? I know it’s a lot to take in…”

I gasp and back away. Shit. Pull yourself together, Ari. Fantasizing about this guy is already clouding my judgment. “No, I’m not fine. I’m a publicist, not a monkey. I get how the whole thing works. I’m just telling you to find another way to get this done because I’m finished.”

Jeff motions to the bartender for another drink. “If you were, you’d have been out of here already. But you’re still standing here.” He pats the stool next to him. “Why don’t you sit and finish that drink? I suspect you have more to say. And I would very much like to hear you browbeat me a little bit more. I love a good verbal lashing, although…” The devious twinkle is back, and I can actually feel my panties dampen. “…other types of lashings are preferable.”

My knees quiver. Oh, I can be such a dirty whore for you, Jeff Fuck-Me-Any-Which-Way-You-Want.

My God, who the hell am I? Aren’t I the one who never loses sight of her objective? The one who knows, at all times, exactly what role she’s supposed to play and which ones are to be avoided at all costs?

If I’m being honest, I’m also someone who’s pretty tired of her electronic menagerie.

I swallow hard and pull out the stool before hopping onto it, accepting my fate, at least for the foreseeable future.

His eyes crinkle at the corners as I settle onto my seat and down the rest of my drink. “Another?”

“Please.” I smooth back my hair and take a deep breath. I should walk away right now. Before my lips start flapping and before I back myself into a corner. Not in the good way. Any crazy fantasies are just that. Never gonna happen. I repeat these words to myself, over and over like a mantra, not really hearing them, not really believing them. Oh jeez, I’m not only a liar, but a repressed whore to boot. And now it’s time for a little information gathering of my own. If Ollie can’t get it out of him, I guess it’s up to me to do the job and make it sound like I’m not panicked he’s about to invade my territory. “I want to know exactly what’s going on with this investigation. What more do you need before you can bring Conlon in for whatever crimes you think he’s about to commit? And not for anything, but why isn’t this classified information? I mean, how do you know I’m not going to call him later to warn him you’re on his tail?”

“You’re a pretty perceptive woman, Ariana, and your questions are valid.” He takes his glass and swirls the liquid around it, causing the ice cubes to clink against the crystal. It’s mesmerizing; not so much the action, but watching his fingers grip the glass…so long and thick…dammit, what the hell question did I just ask him? My mind is cluttered with a string of XXX-rated video clips that would even be too graphic for PornHub.

I drag my gaze away and focus on my glass instead. “You’re avoiding.” At least, I think he is. I’m so clouded by lust, I can barely breathe.

His grin deepens. “Much of what we know is under lock and key. You’ve only been made aware of what I want you to know. And for the record, if we suspected you had any links to Conlon, personal or otherwise, we wouldn’t be sitting here right now.”

“So you’ve been spying on me. Find anything interesting?” I meet his gaze, trying to keep a hint of suggestion in my voice, even though my stomach is clenched tight with anticipation. He’s bluffing. He’s waiting to see how I’ll answer. He can’t possibly—

“I think I was most taken by the black belt in tae kwon do.” He hesitates to sip from his glass, his deep, gravelly voice filled with innuendo. “Curious to see how you execute some of those more complicated moves.”

I lift an eyebrow, leaning closer. My head is a little woozy, but not sober enough for me to convince myself to stop the next words from tumbling out of my mouth. “It’s been a while since I trained, but they’re really good when you want someone to submit quickly.”

“Quickly, huh? That doesn’t sound like much fun.”

“It is when you’re the one being attacked.”

“I’d like to experience it for myself before I give an opinion.”

“That can be arranged.” I flash a smile before taking another sip of vodka.

“Are we talking about group play? I’m okay with that, but I much prefer one on one.”

“Interesting. I might have pegged you differently.” I force out a giggle. If he thinks he’s going to work me over with a little bit of vodka and innuendo, he hasn’t done as much background checking on me as he’d like to think. Like I’ve never done the exact same thing myself a million times before. I’m the fucking master of the work over, and it’s gotten me to where I am today. “You know what really gets me going?”

“I hope that’s not a rhetorical question.”

My eyes narrow. “You might wish it is in a second. Now, let’s rewind, shall we?”

Jeff’s eyes darken. They’d been heavy with lust seconds earlier, until I called him out on his own game. I’m not a sucker. His back straightens, face guarded. But his gaze doesn’t move from my face. He studies me, almost like he’s debating about how much to actually divulge. He has no clue what he’s up against.

I bite my lip to keep from smiling. The power has just shifted. Now, I want answers. “Tell me about Conlon. What does he want with Scarlet? And why did you really want to meet me, Jeff? What do you want?”

* * *

Never judge a book by its cover.

That’s what they say. And they are fucking right.

Ariana Carlson runs her own show for a reason. She doesn’t let shit go, and she always gets what she wants. I was just curious to see how far I could push before she went full circle on me, but the vodka didn’t seem to have the effect I’d hoped it would.

Trey Conlon. He’s a fucking scumbag. The perfect example of a guy with a Napoleon complex. Short, attitude five times his size, with a need to be balls-deep inside the hottest names in Hollywood. Since he’s a huge investor in film and knows every producer and casting director by name, he has wannabes dropping their panties when he so much as looks at them. He promises these little bitches the spotlight because of his connections, and gets more pussy than a rock star. Did I mention he has a wife and kids? Or that he’s a fucking criminal?

He needs to pay for his wrongs, and I’d sure as hell like to see his pint-sized ass get railroaded, exactly the way he’s done to others. People like him ruin lives, they steal dreams, and that get-out-of-jail-free card in his wallet is about to be torn up and incinerated.

Money makes the world go round, and power feeds the beast. Conlon’s got an insatiable craving for both. It makes him dangerous and unpredictable. That’s already been proven. And I’ll be damned if I let him sink his claws into another unsuspecting victim.

I need eyes on him at all times. Because he’s watching for me, too, and this time, he’s not running away.

But none of this can be divulged to Ariana. Knowing too much makes people curious for more. That puts them in the line of fire. And sometimes, they wind up facing the barrel of a gun. I’d like to avoid that with Ariana, so I’ll give her just enough to keep her happy and somewhat informed.

I throw her a couple of bones because that’s about all I can afford right now. She’s the only one who can help us get to him, and I need her to trust me. “Conlon is involved with a lot of shady dealings. The porn ring is only one. Guys like him are slimy bastards, and sooner or later, their need for power makes them sloppy. That’s what I was hired to exploit. Once he fucks up, he’s mine.” I’d like to say she’s swallowing this bullshit, but the doubtful look on her face tells me, in no uncertain terms, she isn’t.

“And Scarlet? What purpose does she serve?”

“She can help set up surveillance.”

“I thought Ollie already took care of that.”

“The feeds aren’t working. Scarlet can drop a bug so I can keep my eyes and ears on Conlon.”

“Isn’t that illegal? Involving a civilian? Threatening her with defamation of character?”

“She should have thought about the consequences while she was letting him fuck her up the ass.” I need a diversion in the form of fake tits and bleached blonde hair, and Scarlet is it. He knows he’s running out of time, and pretty soon, he’ll also know I’m the one holding the stopwatch.

Ariana’s large green eyes study me for a few seconds. Even in the dim bar lighting, I can see the flecks of gold twinkle in the depths. The gears are turning, I can almost smell the smoke. The woman is no idiot. She didn’t graduate at the top of her class from law school because of her rack and her smile. I didn’t expect her to agree immediately, but this next response almost makes me fall off my stool. “Okay.”

There’s no way she’s letting me off with that scotch-tinged explanation. Christ, a first-year analyst could have come up with something more convincing. She flips her long, dark hair over a shoulder and picks up her glass. Her perfumed scent lingers in the air between us, almost serving as an invisible barrier to entry. Fuck. Game over. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking. I’m too desperate, I’m not thinking clearly. This was a futile attempt to get into Conlon’s head. Ariana would never put her clients in harm’s way, not when she spends so much time and effort keeping them away from direct attacks.

Then the axe falls.

“I’m not letting my client run interference for you. If you’re so hungry for information, I’ll do it. I’ll be the bait.”

My cock twitches. Great timing. Her willingness to help a virtual stranger get answers, pretty much on the blind, astounds and excites me. And her drive, loyalty, and protective nature really makes me want to fuck her senseless against the bar right now.

But it can’t happen. I won’t let her get tangled in his sick and twisted web of lies. She’s too damn smart, and if she tips him off, I’ll never get the answers I need. He’ll go running for the hills with his dick tucked between his legs before someone can take a machete to it. And then I’ll lose my chance.

Scarlet will just giggle a lot, strip out of her skimpy clothes, and suck his cock. She’ll swallow my bullshit, no questions asked.

Ariana…fuck, that’s not what I want her to swallow.

“You can’t do it.”

Her eyes widen. “Why the hell not? Or is an IQ of less than 50 required to carry out recon for what I’m presuming is a federal investigation?”

I bite back a smile at her belligerence. She’s sexy as hell when she’s pissed off. “Look, you know too much. I can’t have you seduce this asshole and wander into his house, taking mental notes on everything you see. I barely know you, and can already predict the Spanish Inquisition you’d force on him before he can drop his pants.”

Her cheeks stain pink and she averts her eyes. “I’d have to…sleep with him?”

“Why else would you be there?”

She shrugs. “Maybe I can make up some excuse about working with his publicist for a project?”

“Then why would you be at his house without his publicist?”

“Gotcha,” she murmurs, twisting a loose strand of hair around her finger. “I can call a meeting with him about upcoming projects for Scarlet. Things we want to get into the media, schedules, appearances…those are all legitimate reasons for meeting with him.”

I shake my head. “You’re too smart for your own good.”

“I can’t put Scarlet in the line of fire. What if he finds out what she’s trying to do?”

“He won’t. He’ll be more focused on what he wants to do to her.” I place my hand on top of hers to silence the tapping of her nails on the bar. She looks up at me, eyes wide. I drink in that intoxicating gaze and see so much floating in those pools of jade – hope, curiosity, excitement maybe? I yank my hand away as if I’d just touched a searing hot coil, before I let myself sink into her quicksand. Because I can’t lose sight of my objective, and I won’t rest until the job is finished.

Ariana clears her throat and fiddles with her watch. “We just wire her up? Is this even legal?”

“No wires. I’ll give her specific instructions on what to do when she gets inside. I promise you, she won’t be in any danger. But it has to be done quickly.” Conlon’s going to slip up at some point, and I need to be ten steps ahead of him when he does. Who he calls, who he meets, what he fucking eats, everything is relevant right now. As brilliant as Ollie is, he can’t get in deep enough from the outside. No, I need Scarlet to divert his attention with her golden pussy. Then, he’ll be mine.

“Are you sure this is the best way to go about your investigation? I’m not convinced Scarlet will be able to get you any real information. It’s not like she’s a trained professional.” She snickers. “Criminally-speaking.”

God, I want to drive into her so badly, but that’s the surest way for me to get thrown off-course. Anything that can compromise my ability to think straight will cripple my efforts. It’s happened plenty of times in the past, and right now, the stakes are just too high. Still, five fucking years is a long ass time. “The less she knows, the more effective she’ll be.”

She nods. “What’s the plan?”

“Conlon just invested in a new movie and the female lead is a singer. The casting director is going to recommend Scarlet. He’ll arrange for a special meeting with her at his house because that’s where he does his best work, if you know what I mean. That’s our opportunity.”

“You sound pretty confident about how this is going to work.”

My grin deepens. “I’ve been plotting for a long time, Ariana.” If that isn’t the understatement of the century. I’ve finally collected all of the pieces, now I just need to make sure they fit together. And fast.