Love Undercover

by LK Shaw

  Love Undercover

  A Bad Girls Novel

  L. K. Shaw

  Love Undercover

  Copyright 2018 by LK Shaw

  All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this book, with the exception of brief quotations for book reviews or critical articles, may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN: 978-1-7248361-1-3

  Editor: Hart to Heart Editing

  Cover artist: Rebel Book Design

  Created with Vellum

  For Kerri

  Your strength and bravery was a testament to what an incredible woman you were. No matter what odds were against you, you never gave up. I miss you, friend.

  Kerri Lynn James

  1974 – 2018

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Secrets of Submission

  1. Penny

  About the Author

  Prologue

  “Kill him.”

  Those two, single-syllable words played on repeat like a litany in my ears. They were accompanied by a multitude of emotions.

  Horror.

  Guilt.

  Satisfaction.

  It’s the last one that made me the most nervous.

  I tried to pinpoint the exact moment things changed. When I changed. Was it the first time I took a hit of blow and loved the rush it provided? The time I sat on a piss-scented couch with a gun in my face, its hammer drawn back as incentive, while I “sampled” the latest stash of a new-to-me dealer who didn’t quite trust me? Or maybe it was when I realized that sometimes, in order to make things happen, you had to get your hands dirty. I was on my own. No cavalry was coming to my rescue. I did what I had to to survive, even if I hated myself most of the time.

  The drugs.

  The killing.

  They were all a part of the man I’d become over the last five years in order to bring an entire organization crumbling to the ground. It was my life’s mission. My obsession, in fact.

  Like an out of body experience, I watched my hand remove the gun from its shoulder holster and point it at the bleeding man begging for his life on his knees in front of me.

  “Please, don’t do this. I told you where the money was. Please, I have a wife, a daught—”

  Closing off my emotions, I squeezed the trigger. His words were cut off mid-sentence when the bullet entered his brain. The dead man collapsed onto the cement floor of the abandoned warehouse near Chicago’s Lake Michigan, blood pooling next to his head.

  Miguel Álvarez, the man who’d given the death order, spat in the direction of the body. “Let that be another lesson to those who steal from me.”

  He clapped me on the shoulder on his way to the black sedan parked just inside the warehouse doors. “Tomás, my friend, welcome to the family.”

  I remained there, unmoving, while I watched two men begin to wrap up the body for disposal. It would be weighed down and dumped in the waters of the Michigan, hopefully to never be found again. My expression remained impassive.

  “You will come to the house, sí?” The voice called from behind my back. Forcing my eyes from the scene in front of me, I turned to face Miguel.

  “Yes, sir, I’ll be there soon. I have some quick business to take care of first.” I didn’t flinch at his assessing stare. After a moment he nodded.

  “Don’t be long, Tomás.” The warning tone was clear. “I want to introduce you to my nephew, Alejandro.”

  He disappeared inside the car, closing the door behind him. The Mercedes pulled away, and I continued to watch it until the tail lights disappeared. Leaving the cleanup crew to their task, I exited the stifling heat of the warehouse before jumping on my fully restored 1984 cherry red Harley Softail. I started her up, slammed my heel against the kickstand, and took off in the opposite direction Miguel had gone. Fifteen minutes later, I entered the Grant Park North parking garage and drove around until I reached the fourth level. I spotted an empty parking space next to a blue Honda. I’d just cut the engine when the passenger window of the Honda lowered.

  “I’m in.” I spoke to the shadowy figure of my handler in the driver’s seat without turning my head in her direction.

  “What did you do?”

  I gave a self-deprecating laugh. “What I had to, Landon.”

  Her voice was full of understanding when she finally replied. “I see. Well, we both knew going in that something like this might happen. It’s unfortunate, but it needed to be done. You’ll be in touch soon, then?”

  “Yes. I’ll let you know when the next deal is going down.”

  Without another word, I cranked up the bike and took off. As I drove down Michigan Avenue, I buried my emotions. I’d been with the Drug Enforcement Agency for eight years. I was now en route to the home of the man in charge of the second largest Mexican cartel in the United States. No longer was I Brody Thomas, D.E.A. agent. I was Tomás González, full-fledged member of the Juárez Cartel.

  I ignored the guilt stabbing me deep in my gut. Diego Garcia may have been the first man I’d been forced to kill, but if I was going to bring down the cartel, he most likely wouldn’t be my last. Besides, any man who got his wife hooked on dope and then prostituted her out to his friends earned a special place in hell.

  When I pictured all the scenarios in which all this would be over, often times, it ended up with my death. I knew the risks. But never at any time did I envision it would be a sexy Latina bombshell who would eventually bring my world crashing down around me.

  Chapter 1

  “I’m so not okay with this.”

  Victor spoke under his breath, keeping his gaze averted from my scantily clad body. I wore a fuchsia silk robe barely long enough to cover my ass cheeks. It kept draping open to reveal the black and pink lace bra which barely hid the shadowy darkness of my nipples.

  “Not nearly as much as me,” I countered, once again tugging and rearranging the damn robe to keep shit covered. I was extremely uncomfortable with my brother being here as my backup, but he’d told my Captain he didn’t trust anyone else to keep me safe. It didn’t matter that we didn’t work the same precinct, Victor refused to let anyone else watch my back.

  “I don’t mean your outfit. I mean, I’m not okay with that either, but this in general.” He made a sweeping gesture with his finger. “You being here. Someone else could have been sent in.”

  I stepped closer to Victor and looked around to make sure no one could hear our conversation.
“This is for our brother, Victor. Do you really trust anyone else in the department to be as vigilant in searching for him as we’ll be? The department is understaffed and overworked, even to look for one of their own.”

  He sighed. “I know, but I don’t like this, Ines. We’re talking about the cartel. What happens if you do catch the eye of Álvarez’s nephew? There may be certain…expectations of you.”

  I sent him a look that said he was an idiot. “I’ll deal with things as they come along. We both know they’ll kill Ernesto if they find out he’s a cop. I can’t let that happen.”

  My father and brothers all worried about me joining the force five years ago, but I couldn’t imagine being anything other than a police officer. Normally, none of the boys made too much of a fuss over an assignment handed to me. However, today was going to be one of those overprotective days.

  I could understand their fear. Our eldest brother had been investigating a murder connected to Miguel Álvarez and the cartel when he’d gone missing. I’d had to convince my Lieutenant to let me go undercover at Sweet SINoritas, the strip club owned by Álvarez. A club his nephew was known to frequent. He was my way into the cartel, a way for me to search for Ernesto.

  I’d made it abundantly clear that Victor wasn’t to step foot on the main floor while I was working. It was bad enough having him in the dressing room. There was no way he was going to catch me flashing my tits and ass. I was also trying to keep those men alive, because there was a good chance my brother would kill someone if they saw them looking at me the wrong way.

  My brother instinctively reached for his gun when the door to the dressing room suddenly swung open.

  “Gabriela, you’re up in five!” Mikey, the manager, hollered into the room before shutting the door again.

  “That’s my cue,” I told Victor as I stood from the stool I’d been perched on. “Keep an eye on the other girls while I’m gone, will ya?”

  “You know I will Gabriela, but you watch yourself out there. I don’t like that I can’t be out there to have your back.” His tone was both worried and disgruntled.

  “It’s showtime.”

  Victor almost full-body shuddered in disgust as I fluffed my hair and pushed up my boobs before strolling out of the room and toward the stage, where the sound of my intro by the DJ grew louder.

  The final notes of Prince’s Get Off faded as I gave one last bump and grind for the benefit of my target, who sat in the front row. He looked younger than I expected. Maybe because of the way he was dressed. He was the twenty-four year old son of Miguel Álvarez’s only sister. After her death, when Alejandro was ten, he was sent to live with Miguel, who raised him. It was said he was being groomed to one day run the family business.

  So I expected him to be wearing, at the least, business casual. Instead, he wore a white wife-beater accented with a ridiculous amount of gold chains. On one hand, he wore a gold pinky ring. I had no idea what his hair looked like, because his head was covered with a baseball cap. He also wore aviators. Inside. It’s always sunny in Doucheville.

  It had taken me almost half the song to get his attention, but once I had it, he was hooked. He’d removed his sunglasses and his eyes never left me while I danced. Now that my set was over, I gathered up the bills scattered on the stage before exiting down the stairs at the back of the stage where Mikey stood waiting. I handed off the loose bills, and he added them to my cashbox. At the end of the night all my money would be added together and the house would take their cut. Whatever was leftover was mine. On a typical night, I brought home almost three hundred. On a good night, I left with at least five.

  I made my way to the bar so I could start serving drinks until my next set. I looked over my shoulder to see if I still had Alejandro’s attention, and smiled to myself that I did. It seemed almost too easy. When I reached the bar, I grabbed a small serving tray and headed to my assigned tables. Every trip back and forth, I made sure to stroll past his table, sending the occasional shy, but not too-inviting smile his way. I’d just delivered a bottle of beer to one of the regulars when Mikey pulled me aside.

  “It must be your lucky night, babe. Mr. Álvarez’s nephew, Alejandro, wants to meet you.” I could practically see the dollar signs in Mikey‘s eyes as he tried to inconspicuously point him out. I had no intention of telling him I already knew.

  Playing it dumb, I asked, “Who’s Mr. Álvarez?”

  Mikey looked over his shoulder before leaning closer and lowering his voice. “Miguel Álvarez owns this club. It’s a not-so-well-known fact that he’s cartel.”

  I gave him my best shocked expression. “You’re telling me this place is owned by the cartel?”

  “Keep your voice down, for fuck’s sake. We don’t need the cops or the feds knocking on our door. This is a legitimate establishment.”

  I barely refrained from rolling my eyes. Everyone on the force knew what type of establishment this was, and legit certainly wasn’t it. Sure, they paid their taxes, but there were so many illegal things going down in this place, it wasn’t funny. My brother Pablo worked this precinct.

  Mikey filled in the silence. “So, you better make sure you’re extra nice to him.”

  Hands on my hips, I snapped, “I’m not a prostitute.”

  He held his hands up in a defensive gesture. “I’m not telling you to sleep with the kid. I’m merely telling you to be…nice.”

  With those words he turned and left me to interpret them.

  I felt eyes on me, and when I looked around, Alejandro smiled and winked at me. I smiled, but quickly averted my eyes. This had been my goal the whole night. Make contact.

  “Hi there,” I greeted them timidly when I reached their table. “I’m Gabriela.”

  “What a beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”

  I giggled vapidly. “Thank you. You must be Alejandro.”

  “Sí,” he replied while he eye-fucked me. “Why don’t you join us? Have a drink.”

  Knowing Mikey expected me to be “nice”, I accepted. I spent the rest of the night mildly flirting and being overly impressed with Alejandro and all his flash. I wasn’t sure if I should have been offended or not, but it barely took any effort on my part before he was inviting me back to his place. Thankfully, the Rohypnol I slipped in his beer took effect before he could do more than plaster me with a few sloppy kisses and cop a quick feel. After he’d passed out, I tugged off his pants and threw a blanket on top of him. It was going to be a long night.

  I’d told myself when I’d come up with this plan that I would do whatever it took to find Ernesto, even sleep with the enemy. But in the end, I couldn’t. I kept thinking “what if?” What if I never found my brother? What if I wound up pregnant? What if, in the end, it would destroy me?

  When Alejandro woke the next morning, I was already up and making breakfast, making him think we’d had a great time. Especially since I’d chucked my clothes on his bedroom floor and was walking around the kitchen wearing one of his shirts. Anything to give credence to the idea we slept together. I soon became a permanent fixture on his arm. Everything was going as planned, until I met him.

  Chapter 2

  Whoosh. That was the sound of cocaine rushing up my nostril as I snorted the line. My eyes watered and immediately, I could feel the high take effect. The urge to try a little more was powerful, but I squashed it. The rush was like nothing else. I’d actually grown to adore the euphoria that came from blow. Then the self-hatred would make me lose the amazing high. Especially when I forced myself to acknowledge I was far worse than that kid. The one who’d killed my mother.

  It was a vicious cycle.

  But with José out of commission, it was up to me to make sure that Miguel wasn’t getting screwed by his supplier. So, the cycle continued.

  After I gave the all-clear that the hit I’d taken was pure snow, my associates and I exchanged the goods for a cash-filled briefcase. Never had I imagined that this was where I would end up when I dreamed of going undercover all t
hose years ago. I didn’t even recognize myself any longer. I’d moved up the ranks in the organization and was now third in command, right behind José Pérez. Álvarez had been hinting over the last couple of months that he wanted to begin grooming his punk ass nephew to take over for him when the time came.

  When I first met Alejandro, he had more interest in sampling the merchandise than selling it. He was a spoiled little shit who did nothing but ride the white and spend his uncle’s cash. Miguel just kept telling me the boy would grow up. I had my doubts.

  Fifty-two minutes later, I pulled up to the security gate at the end of the driveway. Through the trees, I could just make out the top of the red roof of the house. An armed guard exited the small building to my left, a walkie-talkie in his hand. He spoke into it, advising the house I was here. Loud static and a scratchy voice spoke Spanish through the walkie, and the metal gate belched out a roar before it began rattling along the tracks to open up. I revved the bike before heading in. The second I crossed some invisible line, the metal gate began to close behind me.

  I groaned when I spotted Alejandro’s gunmetal Porsche 911 GT2 RS. The kid was clearly compensating for something by driving a car that cool. After dropping my kickstand and removing my helmet, I headed inside. I knew Miguel and Alejandro would be sitting in the courtyard in the center of the house. Like in Mexico, entire homes were built around a center courtyard where the family could visit. It also served as a security feature.