Three weeks later…

Three days.” Renzo shook his head before meeting the gazes of the other two people crowded into the small cramped room on the lower level of the Asian supermarket located off Buford Highway. “Three fucking days?”

Seraphina Cook shrugged as she sat back in the creaking chair, lips pursed, legs crossed. “Just got the message two hours ago,” she told him. “The auction happens in three days.”

After his conversation with Bubbles, Renzo and his team decided Renzo would have to fall back and allow someone else to infiltrate the auction. The leader of their task force, Dutch, had been the one to suggest Seraphina Cook. She was originally from New York, the widow of infamous drug dealer Christopher Cook. When her husband died, Seraphina had operated his business in secret for years before anyone caught on.

She was a shrewd and dangerous woman, beautiful and deadly. Having her on board made sense, but she and Dutch had a history. One that had them at each other’s throats. Renzo didn’t know how Dutch acquired her participation, but he was willing to bet she hadn’t volunteered. Not that he cared. At Renzo’s instructions, she’d put word out that she was looking to branch out from drugs to other things, and sat back and waited to see if Timothy Groves would take the bait.

He had.

With a reputation like hers, who could pass up doing business with the notorious Seraphina Cook?

They’d been waiting on news about when and where the auction would take place. With Seraphina as their inside woman, they could finally gather the information to shut down the auction. Her job was to get into that auction, get a seat at the table, and feed them intel on all the major figures in play, including the person in charge.

Two weeks ago, a note had been pushed under Seraphina’s hotel room door. A simple card with four words. Welcome to the auction. She was in, but they’d had to sit on their hands again and wait.

Until today. Another note under Seraphina’s door. The auction was to be held in three days. Renzo hadn’t anticipated the window of opportunity being so short.

“Shit.” He scrubbed a hand over his face and blew out a breath before addressing the third member of their crew, Tek Ng. “You’re silent, what are you thinking?”

Tek had inherited a hugely profitable sex trafficking operation from his dead father. Something Renzo knew Tek wanted nothing to do with, but closing it all down would simply allow the buyers to go someplace else. So Tek kept the business up and running, going through the motions, buying the women and turning them over to Renzo, helping Renzo and his team put faces to the international entities perpetrating that sick shit.

Their plan for the upcoming auction was the same as all their operations: infiltrate, gather evidence then bust the ring and rescue the women. Some would work for Renzo in his club as waitresses, attendants, whatever position he could find. Others chose to go back to the lives they’d been snatched from, while there were those who chose a different road altogether, leaving everything to start over fresh.

Whatever they decided, it was Renzo’s job to help them through the transition. To help them recover their agency and feel safe again.

“I’m ready whenever you are,” Tek answered Renzo’s query.

The small Chinese-American was soft-spoken with a calm disposition, but looks were definitely deceiving. Tek appeared harmless enough, face fully made up, dressed in a black long-sleeved top, tight black jeans and thigh-high boots with damn near six inch heels, but in truth he was oh so fucking deadly.

Renzo cleared his throat. “Three days is definitely short notice, but luckily we’ve been planning for this for a while. We’re good.” He turned his gaze to Seraphina. She was an older woman, flirting with sixty, but if he didn’t know that he wouldn’t believe it. Her amber-brown skin was fucking flawless, face untouched by age. Her head was shaved bald and even that seemed perfectly suited to who she was. “You go in as a member of the auction, and you signal us on the outside once we have definitive proof as to who is in charge.”

Yes, Renzo suspected Timothy Groves, but they needed indisputable proof of that.

“Tek’s people will then swarm the place, while outside my guys will block off all exits and entrances. We’re taking everybody in there.”

Seraphina licked her lips. “Am I to assume my services will no longer be required once this is over?”

Renzo narrowed his eyes. “You can assume whatever you want.”

She leaned toward him, the sharp, quick movement akin to a serpent striking. He resisted the urge to lean back.

“So Dutch left you in charge of me, Mr. Vega?” She looked him up and down slowly. “Not that I mind, you understand?” She shifted in the chair, lips curled in that self-confident way he’d come to associate with her. “I just like to remain informed on such things.”

“I know you’d rather Dutch be in my place, but you’re with me until I say otherwise.” He made sure his tone held no inflections. “Problem?”

The corners of her brown eyes crinkled when she chuckled. “Being tucked in the middle of a Renzo Vega, Tek Ng sandwich?” She winked. “Fuck no.”

Renzo rolled his eyes. Over in the corner, Tek snorted.

“I’ve got plans, so if that is all, gentlemen?” Seraphina got to her feet, smoothing a hand down the front of the tight black dress she wore.

It felt wrong—on so many levels—to clock the way her body turned the simple piece of clothing into something fucking obscene. But she had that effect, that power, and she worked it expertly, making it impossible to resist the pull of her orbit. He wouldn’t ever voice it, but Renzo liked everything about Seraphina Cook. Her crazy was beyond anything he’d ever seen. He’d always keep a healthy respect for it.

“Stay close,” he told her as she walked to the door. “I want you on the move as soon as I give the word.”

She shook her head and spoke without turning around. “You’d think by now you boys would know better than to try to keep me leashed.” Hand on the door, she paused at the threshold and looked back at Renzo. “You’ll learn, though.”

The door closed behind her and Renzo closed his eyes briefly before reopening them to meet Tek’s eyes framed by dark liner. “She’s a necessary evil.”

“Nah. You and this…” Tek drew a small circle with his index finger. “That’s a necessary fucking evil. Seraphina is a mistake.”

Tell Renzo something he didn’t already know. “How is Quinn?” He changed the topic, bringing up Tek’s lover and smothering a grin when the other man’s nostrils flared.

“Keep his name out of your mouth.”

Tek wasn’t over the drunken kiss Renzo and Quinn shared so long ago, and Renzo took too much damn pleasure in bringing it up as often as possible. “Still can’t hold his liquor, huh?”

Tek’s gaze narrowed. “You looking for me to decorate my office with your blood?”

Renzo barked a laugh. “Just a question from a concerned friend, Tek.”

“We’re not friends,” Tek said calmly. “We’re barely acquaintances. Let’s keep it that way.” He pulled the door open and gestured. “Get the fuck out.”

Renzo got up from the desk with a chuckle, brushing Tek’s shoulder on his way out. “Tell Quinn I said hi.”

The door closed behind him with a deafening slam.

Renzo drove himself back to the club. Usually he moved with Dax, but his friend had shit of his own to handle, too. Besides, meetings like the one Renzo just held required discretion. As Renzo Vega, club owner and business man, he operated differently. Always flanked by bodyguards to keep up the appearance. But Renzo Vega, FBI agent, was different. He moved alone, or with Dax if he was available. He kept himself alive by trusting very few. Out of all his employees, only Dax, and Renzo’s newly-hired manager, Shay Coleman, knew his true identity.

The club was dead-silent as he let himself in. They closed on Mondays through Thursdays to do inventory, and at almost midnight on a Tuesday, Shay and the rest of the crew had long gone home. He only had some papers to review and sign for Shay to deal with in the morning, then he’d take his ass home. He had to figure out how exactly they’d be moving when it came to the auction.

He hated that shit. Hated that anybody thought it okay to violate his turf. That son of a bitch Timothy Groves was gonna be sorry soon enough.

As he stepped into the main dancing area of the club, he paused to look at around. The place always looked so different when empty. He hadn’t anticipated the ups and downs of going undercover as a club owner. Never saw himself doing what he did now, but what was that saying?

Life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans.

People feared him, feared the threat of his name and reputation, as they’d planned it. He’d done a thorough job ruling Atlanta’s criminal underworld, so thorough in fact, that the man he wanted was disgusted by him.

Oh, Low wanted him. That Renzo knew. But Low didn’t want to want him. He didn’t want to feel what he did. Renzo couldn’t blame him. Almost a month since that kiss, and Renzo still hadn’t gotten over it. He’d held himself back from doing what he’d done before, showing up where he knew Low was.

He wanted Low, God knew he did, but Renzo couldn’t push him anymore. Low knew how he felt. He’d have to be the one to make the first move, to come to Renzo. And if he didn’t…

With a sigh, he headed up the stairs leading to the upper level of the club that held the VIP areas and his office. At least one of his offices.

Halfway up the stairs, a sound reached his ears—the scuff of shoes on his smooth, buffed-to-shine floors. Renzo tensed, one hand going to the gun he always kept at his hip as he glanced over his shoulder. He actually felt the displacement of air as a bullet flew past his face before he even spotted the masked intruders in black.

Fuck!

Two of them.

He dropped backward on the stairs, using his left hand to break his fall as he yanked for the gun at his waist. Too slow, because a bullet slammed into his right thigh, right above his knee. His body buckled. He gritted his teeth, crashing onto his back as he finally fired off a shot. He hit the first one, bullet to the throat. His body jerked before he collapsed onto the floor, unmoving.

The second one kept coming at Renzo.

Purposeful, on a mission.

A searing pain in his left shoulder froze air in Renzo’s lungs, and his vision dimmed. He didn’t look, sure of what he’d see. Both his thigh and shoulder were on fire, blood spilling from him like lava as his grip on the gun wavered. His body was heavy suddenly.

God, he hurt. Still he forced himself to ride the pain. It wasn’t like this was his first time taking a bullet. It won’t be the last. He kept squeezing the trigger, finally managing to put the second assailant down. Not a moment too soon. He slumped against the stairs, panting, swallowing the grunts of agony.

Fuck.

How had they gotten in?

His hands trembled as he checked his leg. Blood poured, but it was a through and through. Jesus Christ. Pain wet his eyes as he turned his attention to his shoulder. That one also bled profusely, but as he poked at the wound, he knew he wasn’t as lucky. The bullet remained.

He struggled to get his phone from his jacket pocket with a shaking hand. Panting. Movement was the devil, darkening his vision and shortening his breath. Still, he gritted his teeth, finally retrieving the phone with fingers made slippery from his blood.

The buttons on his phone swam and he found himself sweating, teeth chattering. Body shuddering from the pain and loss of blood. Adrenaline too, probably. He had an emergency protocol in place with his men, but right now, he didn’t know who to trust.

He used a shaking finger to dial Dax then put the phone on speaker before collapsing. Blood loss had him lightheaded, swimming in and out of a graying fog.

“Renzo? Renzo?”

Renzo blinked. He opened his mouth to answer Dax’s frantic call, but couldn’t even make himself groan. The pain took over everything, even his voice. He tried levering himself upright on his elbows, but the strength to move deserted him, and he collapsed, unconscious before the back of his head hit the stairs.

He became dimly aware of someone touching him, hands lifting him. But other than crying out at the pain, Renzo couldn’t fight his way back from the blankness. Horns blared, filtering to him from a long way off.

A car door slammed. More lifting.

Then he was gone again.

Only to come awake screaming as something sharp and hot tore into his shoulder. Sweat poured down his face, burning his eyes when he lifted lashes that didn’t want to move. He panted, grabbing out at the first thing that came into view.

Dax’s neck.

“Easy. Easy.” Dax removed Renzo’s hand and gently pushed him back against the pillows at his back.

“Dax.” His words could barely be classified as sound.

“You were ambushed at the club.” Anger twisted Dax’s face into a grimace as he wiped bloodied hands on a towel in his lap. “You took two bullets, but I brought you to your place instead of the hospital.”

Because they didn’t know who to trust. Dax didn’t say it, but from what Renzo made out with his bleary gaze, his friend was thinking it.

“I got the bullet out.” Dax’s mouth twisted into a grimace, but he met Renzo’s gaze with worried eyes. “But you’re bleeding and I can’t stop it. We need to get you somewhere—”

“No.” Renzo shook his head and immediately regretted it. He grabbed Dax’s hand in a weak grip. Fuck, he hated this. “Find someone. Pay-pay them whatever.” He closed his eyes as a wave of pain slammed into him. “F-find someone.”

“Who?” The worry in Dax’s voice worried Renzo. “Who the fuck can we trust?” Dax got up from the couch and started pacing. “We don’t know who put a hit on you, Renzo. We can’t take a chance that someone could finish the job. And we’re running out of time!”

This would be the perfect time to make a joke about being hard to kill, but Renzo was too fucking close to death’s door for his liking. Whoever thought it was a great idea to come after him would be made to rethink the idea. But first he had to get better. He took a deep breath, fists tightening at the pain that simple act brought as he ran through the list of people he could call up at a time like this.

All of them were associates and none he’d trust.

Angry hazel eyes flashed in his mind and he snapped his eyes open, grunting at what he was about to say. “L-Low.”

Dax paused his pacing to peer down at him. “What?”

“Low.” It was getting harder and harder to breathe. “Low,” he told Dax. “Bring-bring him. To me.”

Dax lifted an eyebrow. “You sure you want to do that?”

Fuck no, but… “No other option.”

“Shit.” Dax heaved a sigh. “I don’t give a fuck about Low,” he said. “But you do. He already hates you. It’s gonna be ten times worse after this.”

He knew that and he’d deal with it. He didn’t care about Low’s hatred. He cared about that man’s safety, but Renzo was actively putting him in harm’s way by including him in this. He’d never forgive himself if something happened to Low.

But…

“Bring him.” He held Dax’s gaze. “Don’t give him a choice.”