Wicked Impulse (ALFA Private Investigations #3)

by Chelle Bliss

  “I will.”

  “There’s another agent working the Loft tonight, too. Signal if you need help.”

  I furrow my brow. “Why? Am I not doing a good enough job?”

  “Too much happens there for just one agent, Goaltender.”

  Rae only uses my radio call sign, never my real name. She glances up and down the alley and then meets my eyes in the near darkness.

  “I’ll be in touch.”

  That’s my signal to split. She always wants me to leave our meets first so she can see if anyone’s tailing me. Limp or not, Rae isn’t someone I’d ever mess with. She’s Ukrainian and steelier than any man I know.

  I leave the alley and walk a block before hailing a cab to take me to the Loft. It’s about three miles away, and when I get there, I see a line of waiting people that winds down the block.

  Putting on my most confident expression, I walk up to the tall, broad man next to the club’s front entrance.

  “Eva,” he says with a nod.

  “Hey, Paul.”

  He opens the rope blocking the entrance to let me through, and a few people in line groan or mutter with disgust.

  I come to the Loft at least a couple nights a week, and everyone here knows me as “Eva.” I’ve never had to provide further details like a last name or background, because no one here cares.

  My first stop is always the bar. I order a lemon martini, scanning the crowd as I take my first tart sip. I wonder who the other Greenlight agent is here. I won’t find out unless I need backup, so I actually hope it remains a secret. But still, I’m intrigued that someone else in the club is doing the same work I am, likely nursing a drink all night the same way I do.

  Does their heart still race with excitement every time they walk in here the way mine does? I knew when I signed on that this work would be exciting. The rush is like nothing I’ve ever felt, but it comes with a heavy sense of responsibility.

  Lives depend on the intelligence I gather. If I miss something—or worse, get something wrong—crimes that could have been prevented may happen. People could get hurt.

  And then there’s the fact that my own ass is in danger 24/7. The type of people who frequent the basement of the Loft won’t lose any sleep over shooting me in the head if they think something is off.

  And who’d miss me, the illegitimate daughter of a disgraced former senator? My parents would, sure, but I’m not like Reagan and Abby. My father’s legitimate daughters are shining stars. I’ve always felt like the misfit star, on the verge of fizzling out and falling to the ground.

  “Eva.”

  The deep voice behind me sends a shiver down my spine. It’s Alex Hassan, and though I was expecting him to seek me out if he was here, I’m surprised he found me so quickly.

  “Alex,” I say, a smile playing on my lips.

  “You ignored me the other night.”

  I shrug. “I’m no one’s booty call.”

  Alex’s dark eyes darken further as he laughs. “Come,” he says, taking my hand.

  I’m cool on the outside, but my pulse is racing wildly. Alex doesn’t dance. Actually, he never spends any time on the club’s main level. And he’s leading me past the dance floor, through a seating area, and down a hall that leads to the kitchen.

  Good. The kitchen is the entrance to the basement. Alex pushes the kitchen doors open, not even looking at the club staff at work in there.

  There are about twice as many people as needed for kitchen work in here, and I suspect it’s because half of them are for security.

  No one blinks as Alex keys in a code and the doors to an elevator slide open. He puts a palm on my ass, encouraging me to step on first.

  I do, and then he gets on and keys in another set of numbers on a panel on the wall. As the elevator moves down, his dark gaze slides up and down my body.

  “I don’t like being ignored,” he says.

  “I don’t like being called at two a.m.”

  He arches a brow. “I’ll call earlier next time.”

  “Then I won’t ignore you.”

  I know Alex’s type. He’s powerful, used to everything and everyone just falling into his lap. The way to really get in with him is to challenge him. My nonchalant attitude toward him also keeps me out of his bed, which is good. If I have to sleep with him, I will, but I don’t want to.

  As soon as the elevator doors slide open, I take a slow, calming breath. I have to take in as many details as I can down here and listen to as many conversations as possible, all while appearing to be Alex’s vapid, disinterested arm candy.

  I take a small sip of my martini, wishing I could down the entire thing. Alcohol would help my nerves right now. But I have to stay sharp.

  The guns on the hips of the two stoic men on either side of the door we’re about to walk through remind me how high the stakes are down here. To keep my cover, I actually have to be Eva.

  Alex puts a hand on the door handle and then pauses, looking at me.

  “Good girls aren’t allowed in here,” he says to me, his gaze hard and penetrating.

  I hum a note of amusement low in my throat. “I don’t know any of those, do you?”

  Phoenix

  “Come on, Nix. Just do this favor for me once.”

  Carlito’s pitiful when he begs, but it’s not enough to sway me. Even though I’ve known him for two years, I still don’t trust him. “It’s too risky.”

  Carlito has been on the scene for years, well established by the time I found my way into the Loft. He’s been known to deal in stolen goods, but his area of expertise usually involves massive caches of weapons. Not just guns, the big stuff too—AKs, grenade launchers, and even anti-aircraft shit. I’ve steered clear of him whenever possible. Even criminals like me have lines we don’t like to cross, and Carlito typically straddles the imaginary boundary I laid down.

  “Not for a pro like you,” he argues, and I’m becoming irritated. “It’s a simple bank transaction.” His thick Spanish accent, slicked-back brown hair, and off-white leisure suit straight out of an old-school gangster film make him stick out like a sore thumb.

  “There’s no such thing as simple, Carlito. Not in our world.” I turn my drink in my hands, making patterns against the cold steel table, bored with the conversation. “It’s a mistake too many people make.”

  “I never knew you were a pussy, Nix.” When he says pussy, it comes out more like puh-say.

  “Think what you want. Why don’t you go ask Grim? He’s been looking for some extra cash.”

  “I already did.” He licks his two middle fingers and runs them over his bushy black eyebrows and scans the room. “I think I’ll go ask Freckles. She’s always up for a challenge.”

  My eyes follow his, sweeping through the crowd to find Freckles. “I thought you said it was easy.”

  “For you, it would be a piece of cake, but for anyone else…” His voice trails off as he slides out of the booth. “Catch ya later, Nix. Thanks for nothin’.”

  I wave him off, but I keep my eyes on him as he makes his way across the room. He’s schmoozing the crowd, shaking hands and drawing attention to himself. It’s classic Carlito. Most people here want to lie low, but not him. He wants to be known. Wants people to like him. Every time I see him walking free, I’m amazed his ass isn’t behind bars from his need to be seen.

  He gives a quick nod to Icepick, a man who has a thirst for blood that’d rival any vampire, and keeps moving. Smart move. Icepick isn’t the man for his job unless it involves making someone disappear, which it doesn’t.

  When he stops in front of Freckles’s table and says a few words, he glances in my direction and she turns to look at me. I wink, and she gives me a wicked smile before turning back to Carlito. Freckles and I collaborated a few times, but she has no problem with arms dealers or anything that may negatively impact anyone but her. She’s all about the mighty dollar and could give a fuck about anything else.

  She’s sizing him up and twirling her shoulder-le

ngth curly hair around her index finger as he chatters on, waving his hands wildly when he speaks.

  Her nickname is cute, but her skills are anything but. She’s a notorious thief, but she has genius computer skills and could help him out if he earned her trust. Motioning with her hand to the seat next to her, she gives Carlito a small smile, signaling she will at least hear his proposal.

  Leaning back in the booth, I place an arm across the back and lift the Louis XIII Cognac to my lips, sipping it slowly and savoring every drop. I’m still watching them when Wolf steps into my line of sight. “Been a while since I’ve seen you, buddy. Can I sit?”

  I nod. Wolf’s been missing for over a month, and I assumed he was arrested and turned. Normally, I wouldn’t be suspicious if someone from the Loft disappeared, but Wolf, he was too close to me to be missing without as much as a text message. “Where ya been?”

  “Here and there.” He gives me a big, toothy grin and waves over the waitress. “You know how it is.” His head bobs when he shrugs.

  “I do,” I tell him because I want to believe he was just out of reach, but there’s something off about his behavior tonight.

  I’ve known Wolf for three years. It’s a small chunk of time, but in our world, it’s a lifetime. People come and go, disappearing because of death or prison, and time is usually counted in weeks instead of years. The best in our industry find ways to stay under the radar, and much like me, Wolf has found a way. At least, I thought so until he vanished without a trace.

  There’s a faint line of sweat dotting his brow, and he wipes it away. “So what’s new? Anything you’re working on?”

  “Nothing. I’m taking a break.” I’m not convinced that he’s not wearing a wire or working for the Feds, so I give him nothing. “How about you?”

  “Fuckin’ Hassan has me working on this bullshit overseas.”

  Alex Hassan never works under the radar. Never. But he has enough money in his pocket to pay off politicians in the US and the Middle East to make his ass almost untouchable. He’s been dealing arms to rebel armies for years and has connections that most people can’t replicate.

  “Is that where you’ve been?”

  “Yeah.” He nods and huffs out a breath, puffing his cheeks out like a blowfish. “It sucks over there. I still have sand stuck in places I didn’t even know existed.”

  I breathe a little easier knowing he was on assignment and not with the Feds. It’s something I can check easily with a simple conversation. Hassan’s here every night when he’s in town, without fail with some new piece of ass on his arm. The bastard gets laid more than Hugh Hefner. He’s the Middle East criminal version of the guy—without the Playboy mansion and the Grotto.

  “I could’ve told you it’s a shithole over there.”

  “Doesn’t matter.” He waves me off as the waitress approaches. Wolf smiles up at her, his broad grin growing larger as he ogles her breasts. “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes, Popcorn?”

  “Hey, stranger. I thought you were gone forever. Thought the Feds may have finally nabbed your ass.” She laughs softly, her dark eyes sparkling when she tips her head back and the overhead lighting falls upon her face.

  “I’m too good for that.”

  One thing I know is that no one is too good for that. One mistake and everything can be over. It’s a fact that we all live with every day. It’s that simple and something I never forget. We don’t walk through life like most people; we skate the law, living on the fringe and embracing the freedom that comes with it. Each of us knows that it can all end in an instant.

  “What can I get you, Wolfy baby?” she asks, running her hand through his hair.

  He slides his hand up her fishnet-covered thigh. “How about a piece of you?” he replies and licks his lips.

  She slaps his hand away playfully and giggles. “Maybe another time.”

  “Just grab me a vodka on the rocks, doll.”

  She gives Wolf a small wink and turns her attention to me. “You want another, Nix?”

  “Sure. I’ll take another.”

  After a quick nod, she saunters away, swaying her hips wildly, giving him a show. “She’s such a tease,” he mutters, unable to look away from her performance. “It’s nice to see barely dressed American women. I don’t know how the guys over there do it. I saw tons of eyes over there, but nothing else. The nuns showed more shit when I was in school.”

  I’m a little stunned that he had a solid upbringing. He doesn’t have the manners or morals of a kid born with a silver spoon. “You went to Catholic school?”

  “Right before my sophomore year, I was expelled from public school. My parents thought private school would give me the focus to make something of myself.” He laughs and shakes his head.

  “Glad to see that worked out.”

  “Wolf,” says a familiar voice.

  My eyes drift over the rim of my Cognac and catch a glimpse of black leather knee-high boots and jet-black stockings with a hint of lace showing below her extra short shirt. Standing with his latest conquest and soon to be piece of trash at his side is Hassan.

  “Hassan,” Wolf greets him. “Care to sit?”

  “Thank you.” He holds up his hand, placing the woman next to Wolf before sliding into the booth next to me. “Nix.” He extends his hand across the table, waiting for me to extend my own.

  He’s one of my least favorite people in the place, well, besides Carlito. He never welches on a deal, but there’s something about him that has always irked me. Maybe it’s the way he uses people, especially women, and then throws them away. Even with my feelings for him, I still shake his hand and finally let my gaze wander across the table to his guest.

  Hassan notices and grins. “Gentlemen, this is Eva.”

  “Ma’am.” I tip my head but say nothing more. Hassan is known for being with beautiful women, but there’s something about Eva that makes her stand out from the others.

  “Ah, Eva. I heard a lot about you.” Wolf’s eyes roam her like a hungry lion stalking his latest victim. But we all know he won’t touch Hassan’s property, not if he wants to keep his hands or his dick.

  “It’s great to meet you too.” The silver ring in her bottom lip twinkles when her lips move, and I can’t look away. “I’dheard you were out of the country.”

  I’m drawn to her mouth, the way her lips move when she speaks and how the light dances off the hoop. Her tongue peeks out and flicks at the ring, causing my cock to twitch.

  “Yes. Hassan over here—” Wolf lifts his chin toward him and grimaces “—had me in the sand dunes of Saudi Arabia.”

  “You loved it there. Don’t let him fool you, Eva.”

  “Bullshit,” Wolf coughs the words into his hand, and Eva laughs at their banter.

  Popcorn places our drinks on the table and gives Hassan a shitty look, dragging her eyes to Eva and snarling. But Eva and Hassan seem to be oblivious to Popcorn’s disdain.

  Is there a woman in this place Hassan hasn’t conquered and pissed off? How long before one of them gets jealous enough to turn him in to the cops? Although they’ve all been vetted and deemed trustworthy, everyone has a breaking point.

  Hassan turns and invades my personal space. “I was hoping to talk to you about—”

  “Hassan—” I cut him off because I don’t want the next line spoken in mixed company. “If you want to speak with me, it’ll be in private.” We’ve been over this before, but he doesn’t seem to care whom he speaks in front of.

  I refuse to discuss anything in front of a stranger, even a beautiful one. Eva is a stranger. Even speaking in front of Wolf has me on edge. When I discuss business, I want no witnesses but the parties involved, and that doesn’t include Eva or Wolf.

  “Eva, my love. Can you go get us some drinks?” Hassan asks, but it’s not a question.

  She glances between the two of us, her eyes flashing with anger before it quickly vanishes. “Sure. The usual?” She slides out of the booth and stands near the edge of the table with her fingertips almost touching his.

  There’s a small pang of jealousy that’s settled in my belly. I chose this life, but sometimes I wish I had someone to share it with. Eva isn’t that to Hassan. The only thing he wants to share is her pussy, and once he’s had his fill, he’ll trade her in for someone new.

  “Please.” He gently grabs her well-manicured hand and brings it to his lips. He closes his eyes, inhaling her skin before placing the lightest kiss against her delicate flesh.

  My eyes are trained on hers, because she’s looking at me and not him. Her electric blue bangs hang over her hard, charcoal eyes. “Anything you want, Hassan,” she says with her eyes on me and only me. Hassan’s too lost in the feel of her skin to notice she’s not paying him any attention.

  For a moment, I’m transfixed by the way her lips move when she speaks and the sparkle of the piercing in her lush, glossy red lip. What a waste that she’s with a guy like Hassan, but it seems even he knows there’s something special about this one. He clings to her in a way that makes his claim unmistakable.

  Finally, he releases her hand and gives her a small pat on the ass, dismissing her. “We’ll just be a minute.” She nods, finally making eye contact with him before walking toward the bar and leaving us alone.

  “So I wanted to talk to you about…” Hassan says, and I don’t hear the next part of the statement because Eva looks back as she leans over the bar, giving me the perfect view of her upper thighs and smiling at me over her shoulder.

  As Kyle, the bartender, speaks to her, she leans over farther and sticks out her ass. Fucking cock tease. Just a few more inches and I’d see more than just the lace on the tops of her stockings.

  “What do you think?” Wolf asks, pulling me back into the conversation.

  I drag my eyes back to the table to the two miserable fucks in front of me. “Repeat it one more time.”

  Hassan taps his gold Dunhill lighter against the table out of irritation. “I know Eva’s beautiful, Nix, but she’s a cock tease.” Lifting a cigar from his pocket, he places it under his nose and smells it much the same way he did Eva’s hand. “She’s a beautiful possession, just like this cigar. To be used for my pleasure and only for a short while. What I’m trying to talk to you about can change your life more than any beautiful pussy ever can, so pay attention this time.”

  -->